Shattered
by Goingdownwithmyshipz
Summary: Three years after Wally ceased to be, a lost son finds information that an enemy has found him alive. But the cost of bringing their missing speedster home is more than anyone could have bargained for. Warnings: Language, Violence.
1. Prologue

**So first of a huge shout out to Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt without her inspiration and help this story would have never got off the ground so be sure to thank her for co-writing this story with me by checking out all her amazing stories and reviewing them! And now on to the part you've all been waiting for the debut of Shattered enjoy the ride! Warning for Language and Violence...**

* * *

The air ducts of the Al Ghul palace were designed specifically to prevent outsiders from using them as a means to spy on the League of Shadows and as such Jason was barely able to move his large frame through them. It was a constant fight blocking out that small voice in his head that panicked at being confined. It attempted to drag him back into the dark, damp coffin that reeked of rot and death. Dreams of his nails being ripped off as he tried to claw his way out of the wooden box, his lungs screaming for air, returning to suffocate him.

Jason wanted to shout but he couldn't, not without risking discovery. He shook his head to free himself of his fear. It haunted him still . . . hit him at the most inconvenient of times – like now. But Jason refused to relive the tortures he had experienced at the hands of that blasted clown. Too many nights he spent waking up to the sound of Joker's laughter rattling around in his head, the searing memories of his flesh burning, and explosions ripping him apart during that final moment. He has already spent too much time fighting off the phantom pain of broken bones and flashbacks of the excruciating bite of that clown's beloved crowbar.

No . . . Jason was here to get payback.

It was Ra's fault . . . All of it! That he had died, that he had been at the untender mercy of that clown, his subsequent murder, the indignity of being dragged out of his grave only to toss him into the cursed Lazarus Pit. Jason had been reborn into madness, only to left by Ra's to fight his way towards some semblance of sanity.

To this day Jason was tormented by what he had done while engulfed in the madness; haunted by the memories of his attempt to murder the only man willing to be a father to him; of tearing a bloody path through Gotham; the carnage of his passing, the proof of his return. And then there was the Joker . . . laughing, always laughing but this time he was laughing at what Jason had become: a pathetic excuse of a human being. The crazed clown had been smug when talking of what Jason had wrought upon his return, the blood on Jason's hands being a mere extension of the madman's own. Was that a bit of paternal pride in his voice? Jason couldn't decide but just the thought of it made him want to puke.

Why couldn't he have just been left in the ground, dead, like he was meant to be? His life, and everything related to it, was now in shambles.

Once the pit's madness had quelled and he had been able to think more clearly, Jason had discovered all the pain that had occurred in time between his death and his resurrection. He had apparently been replaced with a new Robin while he had been gone. And then, Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the guy he had just begun to think of as maybe a brother before he had kicked it, was wallowing in grief over the death of his best friend, unable to pull himself out of his funk.

It was pitiful, really . . . two years and the guy was still almost in as bad a shape as Jason was. Nightwing had practically saved the earth single-handedly and yet Dickhead was paralyzed with guilt, all because of a few lies. People actually had the gall to nitpick over how he did it! But then Dick was always one to take all the responsibility onto his own shoulders. The guy obviously had some kind of complex or something. Jason was pretty sure he could blame it on Bruce with only a little effort.

Bruce . . . Jason cringed when he remembered facing Batman in that abandoned apartment with the Joker bound on the floor at their feet. Thinking back, he should have gagged the psychopath while he had been at it. It likely wouldn't have taken so long for the madness to have cleared from his mind if he had. And then Jason had realized what he had been asking Bruce to do, to go against the one unbreakable rule the man had in his obsessive quest for justice, the one thing he had ground into him from day one . . . him, Dick, and probably the replacement, too.

He had ran, fled like a scared child. He didn't know where he had been going, just away, from the apartment, from the Joker, from Batman . . . and his shame. Ironically, where he had ended up had been cowering in the filth of Crime Alley, the place where his life had begun. Of all the people who might have found him, who perhaps _should_ have found him, in the end it had been Artemis.

She hadn't questioned how or why he was back, just took him to her mother's apartment and cleaned him up, fed him. And then she explained everything . . . how Tim had become Robin, how Wally had been taken from them all because of a plot that Ra's had helped Vandal Savage to create, how Dick had been basically crippled by the death of his friend as though losing the speedster had been the final straw that broken him. As a result, Dick has shut himself off from everyone, throwing himself into his work as a beat cop for Bludhaven PD and, if Nightwing appeared at times, the hero was sloppy and reckless.

Jason came to the realization that night that everything that had gone wrong was because of Ra's. All the pain and suffering that he had endured could be laid upon the Demon's head. The pain and suffering that still others were forced to endure was Ra's fault as well. He had determined then that Al Ghul was going to pay and Jason was the one that would hand him his receipt.

A low growl ripped it way up his throat as Jason continued on his mission, forcing his way through the too-tight air ducts until familiar voices grabbed his attention. He followed it.

"Neither the detective nor his eldest have discovered Vandal's secret, I see."

 _Ra's_ . . . He focused on moving forward and listening intently to the words that were drifting through the vent. His heartrate increased and the dark stain on his soul lurched in an effort to rip away Jason's control. For one tense moment, it took every ounce of his strength to push it back down, holding the madness at bay until he could calm himself.

"Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father," a woman said. _Talia_. "Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster's return."

 _Speedster_? Artemis had told him that Barry was still the Flash, still with the League. There was some new speedster from the future, too. Impulse, or some such title . . A kid, really. Could they be talking about him? But no, he had heard reports about the new sidekick as recently as last week and knew the kid had taken Wally's place with the Young Justice team shortly after the redhead's death.

A vent cover lay just ahead and Jason angled himself so he could see the room's occupants.

"Yes, yes, I am aware. Do the heroes mourn him still?" Ra's asked with mild curiosity.

"It would appear so. You know, if Savage continues to have his way, they will be fighting their friend once Savage manages to pull him free of the speed force." Talia murmured. "The immortal claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit and then, he can be molded into a soldier of the Light."

Jason waited for Ra's to reply but he was interrupted by the opening of a door. A child, no older than five, entered at a run.

"'Am 'ana hazamah," the boy said in Arabic.

"Wala bd li 'an 'adhkur lakum, Damian, 'ann al'abatirat la taemal," Talia said, not unkindly.

"Aghfir li, al'umm," the boy nodded.

The only word Jason was able to translate was 'mother'. He stifled a snort, wondering what poor bastard was stupid enough to sleep with Talia. Shoving the thought aside for what he deemed was the more important information, Jason ran through everything he had just overheard. As the two adults followed the child out of the room, they left their undiscovered visitor reeling.

Jason had not only uncovered a previously unknown plot by the notorious Vandal Savage, but thought he might have also discovered something even bigger. The speedster they were speaking of could have only been one person . . .

Jason scrambled to pull a couple of transmitters from his belt to leave behind. They were new technology he had picked up on his most recent scavenger hunt through Wayne-Tech's R&D department. If Bruce was aware of Jason's occasional forays through the department's goodie bag of upgraded Bat-toys, he never let on. In any case, there might be a chance to catch some other tidbit before Ra's was able to find Jason's little parting gifts.

The man really should thank him. Jason had been here to blow Ra's and his entire compound to smithereens, after all. At least, he had been planning to do that . . . Now, however, Jason had more important things he needed to do. Finding Dickhead was in the number one spot on his new list of priorities.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?! Are you excited for the adventure? Excited our lost boy has finally returned? I mean who didn't miss Jason! Tell us what you guys thought we love hearing what was on your mind as you read and be sure check back in with is on the 26th of every month!**

 **Goingdownwithmyshipz**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	2. Gung Bao Chicken

**And we're back! Yes I know we said once a month but you all were so amazing we figured we'd give you all a special little treat! So here is Gung Bao Chicken!**

* * *

Dick kicked the door shut behind him as he dropped his keys on the side table. He groaned as he began to take off his vest. He relished the sound of the Velcro coming undone as it preceded the glorious feeling that came from taking off the extra weight. Unfastening the straps, Dick raised it over his shoulders and allowed it to drop onto the floor with a heavy thump. Next, he unhooked the clasp of his duty belt and took it off. He set it next to his keys when the sound of floorboards creaking reached his ears.

Without conscious thought, Dick drew his handgun. By now, the weight of the Glock felt as natural to his hands as his escrima sticks and wing-a-dings did. It was just as reassuring to him as well when he turned to face the threat.

"Welcome home, asshole," Jason exited the kitchen munching on Dick's leftover Gung Bao Chicken from the previous night. "You really need to go grocery shopping. This is the only thing edible in your fridge. Oh yeah, you're going to need more beer, too." He belched.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Jay?" Dick growled.

He was hungry and tired. All he had wanted to do was eat his Chinese leftovers and crash until it was time to patrol tonight. He did not have the patience to deal with his back-from-the-dead brother with his homicidal tendencies.

Dick pointed his weapon. "You ate my dinner and drank my beer. Give me one reason why I shouldn't put a hole in your chest right now."

Jason eyed the weapon a second and then tossed the empty carton into the trashcan across from him. "I'm unarmed," he announced, holding his arms out to the sides.

Dick stared at him for another long minute before lowering the gun and shoving it back into its holster. "How'd you get in here?"

Jason snorted. "You live in this piece of shit hell-hole with no security to speak of and have the nerve to ask me that? Seriously, bro, your place makes my place look like the Ritz Carlton."

Dick glared.

Jason rolled his eyes and pointed behind him with his thumb. "The window."

Dick shoved past him as he walked over to inspect the window in question.

"I used a fucking knife to unlock it," Jay continued. "My dead grandmother could have broken into this place. What the fuck were you thinking? They must pay you shit if this is all you can afford. Why not hit of DaddyBats for a loan and get a fucking chain for your door?"

Dick shoved the window up and waved a hand. "I like it here. Now, get out!"

"Ah, is that any way to talk to your resurrected brother? Didn't you miss me, Dickie?" Jason asked as he slapped a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"Last time I saw you, I ended up with a broken leg," Dick answered shortly. "Let's give it a couple of decades and you can ask me that again. The answer will still be the same, though."

"Ah, don't be that way. I'm just here to help you out, Dickhead. You might try showing a little appreciation." Jason grinned.

"No thanks," Dick snapped. "Any more help from you and I'd be the one in the grave."

Jay frowned at the grave reference. "Not my fault, Dick-for-brains. You shouldn't have gotten between me and Bruce." He shrugged. "And it wasn't like I didn't apologize for it afterwards."

"Drawing a penis on my cast with 'sorry' scrawled below it in crayon while I was sleeping is not my idea of an apology," Dick scowled. "I'm tired and I want to go to bed. So you can leave or I can throw your ass in jail."

"You wound me, Dickie. That hurt!" Jay made a face and then smiled nastily. "Now, I see why everyone always leaves you."

"Shut the fuck up," Dick snarled.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Jason snorted. "Of course, West was too stupid to leave. Guess that's why he ended up dead."

"Why, you little shit," Dick took several steps forward menacingly. _That asshole has the nerve to break into my place and start slinging insults around like that_ . . . _no jury in the country would convict me_.

"What's the matter? The guilt a little too much for you?" Jason asked as he circled around his older brother. He smirked. "What were you doing while Wally was dying anyway? Let me guess . . . You had your head buried beneath some chick's skirt."

"Shut up, Jay!"

"You're pathetic," he sneered. "So desperate for a little love you fall between any pair of thighs that spreads for you? Doesn't DaddyBats love you anymore? Or maybe Bruce wised up before you managed to get _him_ killed, too?"

" _GET OUT_ ," Dick roared.

"That's what happened to Wally, isn't it? You were fucking around when he needed you and he _died_ for it! Just like what happened to me! Where were _you_ when Joker was breaking my bones with a crowbar, huh? Who else is going to have to die before they realize that you're as much a fucking failure as a friend as you were a brother?" Jason taunted and then laughed bitterly. "As you were a son!"

Dick slammed into him so fast that Jason honestly hadn't seen him coming. One second he was there, heaving in rage, and the next the two of them went tumbling over the back of the couch. They landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and flying fists. Jay was impressed. Dickweed's fist smashed into his face hard enough to actually hurt.

Jason laughed despite the pain. "You're pathetic. You hit like a girl!"

The next punch, he thought, might have loosened a molar.

"No wonder the people around you die! And they call _me_ a murderer," Jay goaded.

He blocked Dick's next blow and countered with one of his own. Dick's head jerked to the side with a sharp crack and Jason thought he heard cartilage snap. If Dick felt it, he gave no indication as the older man rolled off of him and staggered to his feet. Jay climbed to his own, having to catch himself when his legs suddenly went weak.

"I don't know why I bothered coming here," Jason said as he wiped the blood off of his chin. "It's obvious you couldn't help save Wally when you're incapable of even saving yourself. Looks like you're going to let him down again, Dickhead. Pathetic . . ."

Jay turned his head and spit out a mouthful of blood. He stared at the spot a moment to make sure he hadn't also spit out a tooth but no . . . just blood.

Dick was running his arm across his nose and Jason had to hold back a grin at the swelling already present. _Yes_! He had just broken the golden boy's nose! This was more satisfying than drawing the penis on his cast had been. The asshole was still too fucking pretty, though. Jason needed to do something about that.

"You're no good," Jason sneered. "You're undependable! I'm going to have to find someone who doesn't buckle under the pressure, otherwise, Wally will be dying for real this time."

Dick blinked as some of what Jason was saying penetrated his brain. "What the fuck are you talking about? Wally's _dead_! You don't know shit because you let Joker get the best of you. Still crying over the fact that nobody was there to rescue you, Jay? Maybe that's because nobody _wanted_ to!"

 _Ouch_! _Shit_! _That was going to leave a mark_. As far as insults went, it was pretty good. Really good, even. Jason felt anger bubbling up from his blackened soul.

"If you had been a decent Robin," Dick continued, "Batman wouldn't have had to keep saving your ass. The Joker did him favor when he . . . Oof!"

The breath left Dick's body as Jason rammed his solar plexus with his shoulder. What was left of his couch collapsed and the pair crashed into the coffee table. The piece of furniture shattered under their combined weight.

Batman would have been disgusted with them. There was no technique in the wild punches being thrown. One minute Dick was on top, the next Jason as the two men growled and snarled at one another like rabid dogs. It also said a lot of Dick's neighborhood that no one cared that two people were trying to beat one another to death inside of his apartment.

Dick slung his legs up around Jay's head and thrust the younger man back. Dick attempted to regain his feet when one of Jason's boots caught him in the shoulder. He rolled with the kick and came up swaying. His shirt was covered in blood from his broken nose but Jason looked no better. His jaw was swollen as was one of his eyes and blood oozed from the side of his mouth.

Jason shook his head and then shook it again. He was seeing double. He narrowed his eyes trying to determine if the asshole on his right was his brother or the one on his left. They were both panting and Dick was holding his shoulder. Jason's ribs were busy screaming at him to stop. He paused to consider it.

What was he really trying to accomplish here anyway?

Dick stumbled back into the refrigerator. His hand searched behind him blindly for a handhold to steady him. He refused to look away from his brother in case Jason decided to finish the job. He wouldn't put it past him to try it, although Jay looked like he could barely stand up. He was blinking and looking at something off to Dick's left.

As he watched, Jason stumbled over what remained of his coffee table and landed on the floor on his ass. When the younger man didn't bother trying to get up, Dick unlocked his knees and allowed himself to slide to the floor where he stood. They were staring at one another when some of what Jay had been saying to him finally clicked.

"What did you mean by that," he asked, "'Wally will be dying for real this time'?"

Instead of answering him, Jason fumbled around for something in his pocket. Dick stiffened. Jay had said he was unarmed but that could have been a lie. He pulled his feet up in preparation. He might have to move quickly if Jason came here with murderous intentions.

"Don't be an asshole," Jason grumbled at him. "I'm not as bad as you seem to think." He pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal a tiny tape recorder.

Dick frowned.

"Don't speak," Jason said. "Just listen."

As Jay pressed play and Talia's voice filled the apartment.

' _Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father. Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster's return.'_

At those enigmatic words, Dick felt his stomach drop and he heart pick up. _What_?

' _Savage claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit, and then he can be molded into a soldier of the Light.'_

Dick shook his head. "That's not possible. I was there! I saw him die, Jay . . . I was right there!" His voice broke and a single tear escaped to slide down his face. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick." _How could he have given up on his best friend_? "Where the hell has he been?"

Jason shrugged. "Something called the speed force, I guess. I don't claim to understand this shit. I just thought maybe it was something you might be interested in," Jason told him with uncharacteristic calmness.

 _Did the fight take it out of him or was the little shit being sincere for once in his life_? Dick wondered. The speed force was something that Wally had talked about before. But Wally had talked as though it had been some kind of entity! If what Talia said on the recording was true, it was more like some kind of place . . . A place that Wally had been trapped in for the last three years!

"There's a lot more of this," Jason volunteered. "This bit is a week old."

"How did you get this?" Dick asked, indicating the recording device.

"Just lucky, I guess," Jay mumbled. "Ran into it while roaming around."

Dick looked at him suspiciously. "Talia isn't stupid enough to talk this plainly out in public. She would have had to feel secure."

"Does it matter? I just thought it was something you should hear."

Dick's lips drew up into what Jay would almost describe as a smile. "Why didn't you just play this for me as soon as I walked in the door?"

Jason laughed and then winced as the action pulled on his mouth painfully. "If I'd have done that I wouldn't have gotten the punch you in the face," he replied. "And where would the fun have been in that?"

Dick snorted. "Dumbass. Next time, lead off with the recording."

"Whatever, spoilsport," Jason touched his jaw and grimaced. "You got any ice?"

"No."

"Liar. You're a sore loser," Jason accused.

"Who says I lost?" Dick climbed to his feet and rested a hand on the refrigerator until the room stopped spinning. He needed to shower and change. He had a lot to do tonight. "The ice is in the freezer. You want it, you've got to get up and get yourself."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You say that like you don't think I can."

Dick walked toward his bedroom with one hand braced upon the wall. "I don't. And don't get too comfortable on my couch. We've got places to go."

"Who me? I'm not going anywhere but home." Jason muttered.

"You found Wally, Jay," Dick paused to look back over his shoulder. "Now, you're going to help me get him back."

"The two of us?" Jason looked skeptical. They couldn't be within five blocks of one another without wanting to tear the other's head off.

"And the team," Dick added right before he disappeared into the other room. "Be ready to go in ten."

"Why the hell would I want to do that?" he called after him.

"That's the cost for eating my Gung Bao chicken," Dick's voice floated back to him.

Jason stared at the space Dick had just been occupying a second ago. He dropped his head back against the broken arm of the couch with a sigh. The chicken hadn't been _that_ great, damn it. Jason would have much preferred the sweet and sour pork.

"Well, fuck," he groaned.

* * *

 **WHAT'D YOU ALL THINK? You love it? Jason and Dick are hilarious aren't they! Gotta love the brotherly love!**

 **Review let us all know what you think and we'll see you again on June 26th!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	3. Getting Lucky

**And we're back! How was everyone's month? Who's excited for the new chapter? We are! The ball has begun to roll and the roller coaster has begun! Hold on to your hats children. And enjoy!**

* * *

Dick returned ten minutes later, freshly showered and clothed in dark jeans, converses, and a light-blue button down. Jason was leaning against his fridge, a bag of peas pressed against his face.

"Don't say a fucking word, Dickhead" Jason growled, tossing the bag on the counter and striding forward.

"Who, me? Wouldn't dream of it," Dick smirked as they headed out the door.

Jason fell into step beside him, an uncomfortable silence settling between them as they walked to the nearest zeta tube. A few minutes later, they were standing in front of an abandoned phone booth.

Dick stepped into the booth first. He noted, just before disappearing in a flash of alien light, that Jason seemed hesitant to join him. It wasn't until Dick stepped out of a rundown, instant-photo booth in a back alley that he understood why.

 _Robin. B-One Three,_ the computer chimed.

Dick winced at the reminder of what once was as he watched Jason materialize.

"Oh shit," Dick snickered into his hand.

"Shut it, Dickhead. I expect that to be fixed later." Jason brushed past him. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Actually, I'm surprised it was still in there after all these years."

Dick slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly, his earlier irritation rapidly disappearing. "No one could ever take your place, Jaybird."

Jason snorted in disbelief and walked a little faster, allowing his brother's hand to fall away. Dick grinned suddenly and moved to catch up.

They slowed only when they approached the street where Artemis lived. No longer did she have the apartment she once shared with Wally near the university they had been both attending. Artemis had moved out within a couple of months of that day and into this place. She also had long since graduated two years ago, the first of her family to obtain a degree.

They were nearing the small house she rented when they heard barking. They looked at each other with alarm as the huge, blue-gray, Neapolitan mastiff pulled free of its owner and began galloping in their direction. That dog's massive head was as tall as their chests.

"Oh no," Dick said quietly.

Jason gaped at him. "What's 'oh no'?"

"Brucely!" Artemis yelled at the dog as she chased behind it. "You get back here right now!" The dog ignored her in favor of greeting her guests. She had no hope of catching up to him.

"Please tell me that thing knows you," Jason begged his brother, "and that it likes you!"

"It likes me, but that doesn't mean this isn't going to hurt," Dick replied, already wincing in preparation.

Brucely leapt in the air a few feet shy of its goal, and Dick threw himself sideways in hopes of avoiding being slammed into the sidewalk by the hundred and eighty pound horse that liked to pretend it was a dog. Jason wasn't so lucky and went spinning as the dog barreled into him. Dick rolled to his feet, bracing himself as Brucely turned and sprang at him once more. Luckily, without the momentum of a run behind him, the dog merely staggered Dick as it planted its paws on his shoulders.

This put Brucely's head above Dick's but the dog was not to be denied. It ducked down, licking Dick's face with a giant, wet tongue. Drool dripped from its jowls and, in seconds, the young man was drenched in dog slobbers.

"Ugh! Down, Brucely! Get down," Dick tried to sound alpha but there weren't many who could top a Neapolitan mastiff in intimidation.

Jason sat up from where he had landed on the grass and shook the slime from his hands. He glanced up as Artemis arrived, waving a hand in the dog's direction.

"Whose idea was it to buy you a horse?" he asked her sarcastically.

She smirked down at him, holding out a hand. "He's not a horse. He's a dog," she corrected sweetly. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he, Jason?"

"Who, me? Nah, I'm alright." He shook off her concern after he allowed her to haul him to his feet. "That dog's got nothing on Bane," he snorted.

She smiled. "Except drool?" She laughed at the splatters that were sliding down his jacket.

"Ew," Jason grimaced as he took his jacket off and held it out from him.

Dick grunted. "Hey! A little help here wouldn't go amiss."

Artemis immediately grabbed Brucely's collar. To think she could physically pull the dog from him was a joke but, when she snapped the dog's name and gave a firm yank, Brucely dropped down obediently. His tail was wagging so hard his entire back end wagged with it.

"Hey, yeowch," Jay yelped as the tail whacked him with the force of a small, compact car. "Jeez, Artie, that's gonna leave a mark!"

She sniggered. "I thought you were a Boy Wonder," she grinned at him. "You're supposed to be able to dodge bullets but here you can't even avoid a dog's tail."

"That dog should have its own zip code," Jason grumbled as he moved to the other side of her. "This is all your fault, Dickhead."

Dick laughed, pulling some jerky out of his pocket to give to the dog. "Who's my favorite doggie in the world? Who's my widdle guy?" Dick cooed as he ruffled the loose skin around the dog's head.

Brucely swallowed the handful of jerky whole, its butt picking up speed as it wallowed in Dick's adoration.

"What the fuck? Where the hell did you get jerky, you jerk?" Jason asked with annoyance. "No wonder the dog attacked us!"

"Brucely didn't attack us," Dick said with a sickeningly sweet tone. His attention was all for the dog despite speaking to Jay. "No, he didn't, did you, boy? No! No, you didn't! You just wanted a hug, didn't you, boy? Didn't you? Yes, you did!"

Brucely turned in a circle, then pressing his giant head against Dick's chest as he demanded yet more affection. He received it, too, as magic fingers found their way under Brucely's collar and behind his ear.

Artemis was smiling. "Dick always brings Brucely treats every time he shows up. Dick's one of his absolute favorite people in the world because of it." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Okay, that and because he continues to treat Brucely like he's still a three month old puppy. The dog adores this kind of thing," she said, motioning to the dog.

"So, what?" Jay gaped at his brother. "You always carry dog treats around in your pocket? Or did you know we were coming here before I did?"

Dick laughed, patted Brucely's enormous head once more and straightened. "I picked up a package when we stopped the 7-Eleven for your Slurpee on our way here."

"Did you think to bring a change of clothes?" Jay snarked.

Dick glanced down at himself. "What for? Brucely will just slobber on them again before I get out of the house."

As if understanding that he was being discussed, Brucely shook himself hard, his jowls flapping as dog slobbers flew out in all directions. Artemis stepped back with expert timing and Dick leapt away at the last minute, leaving Jason to be covered by the majority of the flinging saliva.

"You ass!" Jason yelped.

"What?" Dick laughed. "It wasn't me!"

"You've tromped though the sewers before, Jason," Artemis said as she covered her smirk with a hand. "How can this be worse than that?"

Dick grinned. "I thought you liked dogs, Jay."

"That's not a dog," Jason grumbled as he tried to wipe his shirt and pants off. "That's a freaking horse." He leaned down, wiping his hands on the grass. "Ugh! Hey, Artie! Mind if I go in and try to clean up a little, at least."

"Yeah, sure," she said. Artemis picked up Brucely's leash and headed back in the direction of the pretty, yellow house with the green shutters. "Follow me." She glanced back at them. "You guys just passing through the neighborhood or is there a reason for this little visit?"

Dick's smile dimmed a little. "Um, we'll tell you in the house."

Artemis' brows drew together as she tried to determine what lay behind Dick's expression.

"Okay, fair enough. Do I need to be sitting while you tell me?" she asked sarcastically as she stuck her key in the door and opened it.

The guys followed her in. Jason looked around curiously as Artemis flicked on the lights in her living room and moved into the kitchen. Brucely went with her, making loud slurping noises when he drank from his water dish. A couple of minutes later, Artemis reentered with some bottled water. She tossed one to each of her guests and waved for them to sit.

Jason declined and moved over behind the sofa to stare out the window. Dick sat on the edge of the couch near the upholstered chair where Artemis planted herself. She kicked off her tennis shoes and tucked one of her feet beneath the other leg, getting comfortable.

Gesturing with her water bottle, she said, "So, spill it. What's up? You need help with something? I still keep up my archery," she admitted quietly. "Just can't seem to give it up."

Dick stalled for time by opening his water and taking a long draw. He stared down at the bottle as he carefully replaced the top, sighing.

"Yeah, maybe . . ." he said and then looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "Look, could you just listen to me for a minute before you say anything. Just . . . just hear me out, alright?"

The laughter of a few minutes ago fled, leaving behind a somber atmosphere that even Brucely picked up on. The dog made a rumbling kind of whine and sat beside Artemis' chair, leaning his heavy body against her leg in a gesture of comfort.

"You're kind of scaring me a little bit, Dick," Artemis admitted. "What's this all about?"

She glanced over at Jason but the younger man seemed to tense up. He turned completely away, facing the window as if he found the empty sidewalk outside fascinating. She looked back at Dick, feeling a little helpless and a lot worried.

"Is it . . .? Did someone . . .?" Artemis asked. She couldn't say the words.

After staying active in the crime fighting world for a couple of years after losing Wally, she had finally retired, determined to live her life in the way they had always talked about doing. Unfortunately, it just wasn't the same without the other person to share it with you but she was . . . adjusting, albeit slowly. One of her coworkers had asked her out for the tenth time in the past six months and she was actually, for the first time, considering accepting.

Death had stalked her heels for a long time, three full years, in fact. It was time to start living again. Wally wouldn't have wanted her to die along with him.

"No," Dick shook his head quickly. "No, nothing like that," he told her. "Actually, it is _good news_ for a change."

Artemis pursed her lips, doubtfully. " _This_ is _good_ news?" she asked, looking at their serious expressions.

Dick nods, a small, hesitant smile edging its way onto his face. "If it's true, then, yeah . . . It's _very_ good news."

"It's true," Jason said, his voice reminding them that he's still in the room.

Artemis sighed. "Then don't keep me in suspense," she said. "I could use some good news for a change."

Dick licked his lips nervously. He reached over with one hand and grabbed her free one, squeezing it gently.

"Artemis, we believe that Wally is alive," Dick told her softly.

Artemis blinked but didn't move, didn't react. She stared at him.

He frowned. "Did you hear me?"

Her gaze flew suddenly to Jason. He wasn't looking out the window anymore but had turned to face her. Jay didn't smile but he nodded once, confirming what she believed she'd heard incorrectly.

"W-What?" she stammered. "What did you say?" She tried to tug her hand free, but Dick held on, refusing to let her go.

"Wally is alive," he repeated firmly.

Her water bottle dropped to the floor with a thump. Dick stooped, picking it up with his free hand and setting on the coffee table in front of her. Artemis tugged again and, this time, Dick let her pull her hand away. She leaned back in her chair, a stunned expression on her face.

"How?" Her voice cracked a little on the word.

"What?"

She looked at him, then. Dick was Wally's best friend . . .

"How do you know?" she snapped suddenly, angrily. "You can't just walk in here and drop a bomb in my lap like that and expect me to _believe_ it! I've grieved him for three years! How do you know this thing? _How_?"

"Artemis . . ." Dick began.

Artemis jumped up and grabbed Dick's collar, pulling him up in front of her. "You tell me how, Dick Grayson, and it better be good," she croaked. "It had better be good," because . . .

Because she couldn't do this again. She couldn't get her hopes up only to be disappointed. She couldn't grieve for him again . . . She couldn't! Artemis Crock was not that lucky!

Dick didn't move.

He stared back at her with those stupid, gorgeous, blue eyes with thick, black lashes that every single woman in the world adored, and all Artemis could do was wish that they were green . . . Green with reddish-brown lashes with a dash of freckles across his nose. _Wally_! She wanted Wally back! Her heart squeezed so tightly in her chest it hurt, just like it did three years ago when the snow settled and there were only two speedsters left standing where there had been three before.

' _Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father. Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster's return._ '

Artemis blinked at the sound of a woman's voice. She glanced stupidly at the recorder that had appeared in Jason's hand. It was followed by a man's voice. _This_ voice she easily recognized. Ra's al Ghul . . .

' _Yes, yes, I am aware. Do the heroes mourn him still?_ '

' _Savage claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit, and then he can be molded into a soldier of the Light._ ' The woman's voice again . . . She had called him 'Father' marking her identity as Ra's' daughter, Talia.

 _How the hell did Jason come by this recording_? Artemis wondered.

Jason paused it.

"Barry is right now in Central City. Bart is with him, as is Jay Garrick," Jason told her. "We checked. They've been there for the last three weeks, except for attending meeting at the Watchtower. Jay's never left and neither Barry or Bart have been on any missions during this period of time."

Artemis frowned at him, trying to wrap her mind around what he was trying to say.

"Barry, Bart . . . Jay," Jason spoke slowly, "None are the speedster that Talia al Ghul was talking about. There is only one other speedster in the world . . ."

"How did you get this?" Artemis whispered. "Is it possible that they knew that they were being recorded? Could they have been lying?"

 _Please say no_ . . . _Please, say no_!

Jason seemed to hear her silent plea because he shook his head.

"No, they couldn't have known," he told her quietly. "They _weren't_ lying, Artemis. _I swear it_. I'd _never_ have brought this to Dick if I thought for a second it was a lie. I'd sure as _hell_ never would have allowed him bring it to you if I thought it was anything less than the truth!"

Several emotions crossed her face as Artemis tried to process the information. She let go of Dick's collar finally and sat down heavily, nodding at the coffee table in front of her.

"Set it down," she told him. "Let's hear it, _all_ of it."

Dick moved down to the other side of the couch to make room for Jason as his younger brother rewound the recorder and started it again. He set it on the coffee table in front of her. The three of them stayed there for long minutes, listening to two private conversations of people that were confirmed members of The Light while they discussed, on two separate occasions, the fate of the unnamed speedster.

 _Could it be_? Could she allow herself to believe? It was obvious that Dick did and Jason seemed as sincere as she had ever seen him. The prickling in her sinuses made her eyes water and Artemis had to blink rapidly to dispel them.

At the very end of the recording, they heard it. It was part of the second conversation that Jason had explained came from a later recording.

' _It will further enhance our cause once Savage is done with him_ ,' Ra's was saying, ' _at which time, our young Mr. West will be more than willing to serve The Light_.'

Artemis covered her mouth with both hands. "Wally?"

Her voice broke as did her control. Dick was around the coffee table and kneeling in front of her a second later. Brucely whined sympathetically while Artemis buried her face in her friend's shoulder and sobbed.

She _believed_ . . . She really believed! _Wally is alive_!

"Artie? I'm sorry," Jay was kneeling beside her chair now as well. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought this would make you happy."

Artemis laughed and choked and laughed again. She kept ahold of Dick with her left arm and wrapped her right arm around Jason's neck, drawing him toward her. She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair – something that she knew he'd always hated – and hugged him.

"You did, Jay! You've made me very happy," she laughed and sniffled. "You've made me the happiest woman in the world!"

Jason laughed against her shoulder. "That's good to know because, honestly, there for a minute, I couldn't tell."

" _Wally's alive_!" She yelled, making Dick and Jason flinch, and Brucely bark.

Dick started laughing with her. "Wally's alive!"

Jason was grinning as he finally leaned back, rubbing a hand over his aching neck. Artemis could squeeze pretty damned hard!

"So, what's next?" he asked.

"Next?" Artemis met Dick's eyes smiling, and then turned to Jason. "We call Roy."

"And then we plan," Dick finished with a flare, grinning. "It's time to bring the Wall-man back home."

* * *

 **WHAT'D YOU ALL THINK? You love it? One of our favorite archers is back! And I mean how can you not love Artemis and Brucely! And of course we have begun the mission to bring wally back! Who's excited!**

 **Review let us all know what you think and we'll see you again on July 26th!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	4. Down The Rabbit Hole

**How's everyone's July, half way through summer! Who's got sun burn? I bet you Wally would! Anywho we're back at it again! Get ready for the roller coaster to begin!**

* * *

 _It's just like old times . . . almost_.

As Nightwing and his team gazed down on the medieval castle below, he thought, _But it will be again soon, Wally. We're coming for you, buddy._

As far as heavy fortifications go, it was impressive. The castle was situated on a piece of rocky shore that jutted out into the Black Sea near the Turkish city of Trabzon. The land was flat for a mile at least with no places for the enemy to hide as they approached . . . And it was owned by the immortal calling himself Vandal Savage.

Oh, he had tried to hide that fact but, once you realized that there was an immortal being out there, it wasn't a huge leap to discover that Cihangir Burakgazi was just one name that Savage had held over his many millennia of existence.

From here, the castle had the appearance of a ruin. There were places along the curtain wall that looked to be crumbled from the ravages of time and the outer bailey was deserted, but it was all a ruse designed to fool the eye. The entrance into the inner bailey, for instance, was in excellent repair. Nightwing had no doubt that the portcullis and heavy doors standing between the team and the inner bailey were reinforced. Getting through the entrance wouldn't be as difficult as, say, penetrating the keep would be on a normal day. This, however, was not a normal day. It would become a free-for-all once the team had entered the yard.

Nightwing was certain that Savage's security measures would include a bottomless pit of guards, among whom were reported to be mercenaries, ex-special forces, and numerous members from the League of Assassins – on loan from Ra's al Ghul. It would be here that the team would split up. The majority of them staying to take on the guards and create the distraction while Nightwing and Red Hood entered clandestinely into the keep proper in order to locate Kid Flash.

He glanced back at the others. He had gathered what was left of the original team. There was no way any of them would have allowed him to come on his own, not when it was Wally that was in need of rescue. He was one of their own, after all, and they took care of their own. In addition to Miss Martian, Superboy, Aqualad, and Artemis, Nightwing had brought with him Red Arrow and Red Hood to provide extra support.

Roy's contribution to the rescue attempt had been two-fold, his bow and also partial plans to Savage's castle provided to them from his wife, Cheshire. They'd managed to keep their marriage itself under wraps but their previous relationship was fairly common knowledge. Jade wasn't as well trusted as she might have been prior to the birth of their daughter, Lian. And while the secret marriage itself was a constant battleground between the couple, Jade had been willing to take the risk to seek out and steal the plans to the castle's layout for both Roy and, her sister, Artemis' sake.

Savage had apparently done some remodeling over the last fifty years, adding electricity and plumbing first, and high tech gadgetry and toys over the past decade. As if fourteen-foot thick walls and immense, heavily reinforced, solid oak doors weren't difficult enough . . .

"Is everyone clear on the plan?" Nightwing asked the rest of them.

Roy didn't look happy. "I don't like that it's just the two of you going in after Wally. What if you run into trouble?"

"We'll handle it," Dick soothed. "Your strength lies in your bow, Roy, the same as Artemis'. You're both better distance fighters and that means you are more valuable on the walls, taking out as many guards as you can. The Hood and I have been trained for close combat. We'll be fine."

Jason settled his helmet on his head; his red mask, a secondary shield for his identity, beneath. Call him paranoid, he got it honestly, at least.

Artemis didn't complain. She knew that she would be liability once she saw Wally. Better for her to stay where she was needed, where her skills would be an asset in the fight ahead.

"What about Superboy or Aqualad?" Roy asked. He really hated this plan.

Dick shook his head. "We've already been over this. Everyone is where their abilities would be most useful. Look, Jay and I, we know how to get in and out without attracting attention. We don't need anyone ripping a door off for us because both of us can pick a lock in less than two minutes and I can hack an electric lock in less."

"Enough chatter. The mission is a go," Artemis butted in. She didn't know what Roy's beef was but for every minute they sat here, Wally was being subjected to Savage's brainwashing methods. "Miss Martian, link us up."

" _Sound off,_ " M'gann's voice sounded in their minds.

" _Here_ ," Nightwing started it off and the rest followed suit with Roy bringing up the rear, answering last.

" _Let's go_ ," Nightwing ordered, and the team piled into the Bioship.

The ship's cloaking ability would hide them until they were right outside of the walls of the castle. Nightwing had considered dropping them off on the inside of the inner wall but they would be needing an exit. The inner bailey, while large during Medieval times, was too cramped for them to crowd safely back onto the ship during the fighting. It was too easy to be cut off by the enemy and, as they had no idea what shape Wally would be in when they rescued him, if he were injured, trying to board the ship in that tight of quarters, Nightwing had judged it to be too risky.

The ship would wait for them just outside of the entrance. Superboy and Miss Martian would make certain that the portcullis and the inner doors would be rendered inoperable. When Nightwing and Red Hood exited the keep with Wally, Artemis and Red Arrow would provide cover fire until the team could retreat back into the Bioship.

The door slid open smooth like a liquid and they exited in order. Superboy, Aqualad, and Miss Martian first. Cries of alarm went up almost immediately but it was too late. Superboy was gripping the metal grating of the portcullis and ripping it out as Aqualad used the water in the moat to shove back the flood of guards like two powerful jets from fire hoses. Superboy threw the torn metal gate away, careful to fling it upward and over the invisible Bioship.

Artemis and Roy ran to different sides of the entrance and shot grapple arrows that they used to scale the walls at a run. Within the first two minutes, they had secured the walls and helped to hold off the stream of guards still pouring out of the keep and the guardhouse. Superboy and Aqualad slammed into the inner doors like battering rams, determined to open the door and gain entry. Miss Martian added her power to it with a tremendous mental shove. The guards that were on the other side flew in all directions. As Superboy and Aqualad rushed in and began the hand-to-hand combat, M'gann took the time to remove the hinges from the heavy doors. She propped them to the side with her telekinesis.

Nightwing and Red Hood remained hidden just inside the Bioship door, waiting for the signal. The fewer who knew they had entered the keep, the farther they would be able to get into the interior without interference, and the faster they would be able to reach Kid Flash and extract him from his prison.

Red Arrow was stationed on the wall to the right, nearest the entrance to the keep. He was waiting for the lull . . . when the soldiers stopped exiting, meaning everyone that was coming out had already done so. As soon as the last of the stragglers had poured into the bailey, Roy hailed them through the mind link.

" _All clear_ ," he told them. " _When you two are in position, Artemis and I will let loose two smoke arrows. You'll be able to rappel down the inside of the wall and enter then_."

" _Check_ ," Nightwing acknowledged. He looked at his little brother. "We're up. Let's go."

"Right behind you," Red Hood said as he followed Nightwing out of the ship.

As they were climbing over the top the wall, Red Arrow told them, "Straight ahead and to your right." " _Artemis, now_!" And the two archers began adding to the confusion below.

Nightwing attached a line to the wall and shot the other end into the stone keep. He and Red Hood attached their grapple guns to the line and slid down in zip-lining mode. Roy spared them a grin as they disappeared into the smoke below.

" _I gotta get me one of those_ ," he told them. " _Does the Bat have any extras_?"

Nightwing smiled as the two detached their grapple guns and ran up the steps and into the keep. " _What's Ollie do all day_? _Tell his R &D department to work one up for you_."

" _Ours are attached to our arrows_ ," Artemis cut into the conversation. " _Red Arrow's just coveting someone else's toys_."

" _Sh. You weren't supposed to tell them that_ ," Red Arrow told her through the mind link. " _You guys be careful. Good luck_ ," he sent after Nightwing.

" _You, too. You guys watch your backs_ ," Nightwing told them.

" _Bring him back to me_ ," Artemis whispered into their heads.

Everyone was out in the inner bailey, it seemed, but still Dick chose to move cautiously. Jason brought up the rear, watching for a sudden rush of soldiers or assassins to come running at them from some unseen passage. The thick walls muted the sounds of fighting and the interior of the keep had an unsettling kind of hush to it.

Dick reached back and tapped Jason's side. He had located the stairs that led to what used to be the dungeons back in the day. Jade had suggested strongly that if Savage were to keep a prisoner of Kid Flash's importance, it would be down there. But no one appeared, no guards lingered around.

"This is creepy," Jason murmured in a quiet voice, knowing that he was only stating what Dick himself was thinking. It felt like they were going down Alice's fucking rabbit hole. He didn't like it. It limited their escape routes.

" _Use the link_ ," Dick reminded him. " _Less likely we will be overheard this way_."

" _Whatever_ ," Jason retorted.

He wasn't used to using the mind link. As the second Robin, Jason had only been a part of Young Justice for a few months before he had been killed by Joker. And, to be honest, there couldn't be that many people who would willingly want to hang out in his head after he had been resurrected, anyway.

" _How much further do you think it is_?" Jason asked. " _We're getting pretty far down here. If we run into trouble, it's going to be a bitch to fight our way back out_."

" _That should be no problem for you_ ," Dick teased. " _Isn't that the description of the last couple of girls you tried to date_?"

Jason ignored the quip, and he was rather proud of himself for that. Anywhere else, he would have made some comment about Barbara, just to get a rise out of Dickwad. Apparently, however, the two had yet another falling out. Nice to know that some things never change. Jay smirked behind his helmet. Of course, Babs had always seemed like she was a smart one . . .

" _I can no longer hear the others_ ," Jason observed.

" _Oh yeah_?" Roy's voice sounded inside of his temple. " _We can hear you two just fine_."

" _Gah_! _Get out of my head, Arrow_ ," Jay barked. " _I meant with my ears_."

" _Hurry up and get a move on_ ," Superboy groused at them. " _There are too many of them. M'gann, to your left_!"

" _Got it_! _Thanks, Superboy_ ," M'gann answered.

" _We need to cut the chatter to only what is necessary to the mission. We each need to concentrate on the fight going on around us_ ," Aqualad chided.

Jason rolled his eyes. He was glad he didn't hang around these guys on a regular basis. Too uptight. Although, he couldn't believe the Dick hadn't been talking his ear off since they got here. Apparently, some things _do_ change. His chatty brother wasn't so chatty anymore. Made him wonder if the circumstances surrounding West's purported death had anything to do with it.

Finally, the stone steps ended and a passage stretched out in two directions. Nightwing checked the holographic computer incorporated into his glove.

"Left." He pointed in that direction with two fingers, leading the way.

There were doors here and there but Nightwing didn't bother stopping to check any of them. Although curious, Red Hood kept walking, looking behind him every few feet. The hairs on his neck were standing on end. He didn't like this. Their enemies could be hiding behind any one of these doors.

Hood stretched his neck to see what it was Nightwing was looking at. " _What's that_?" he asked, whispering even in his head.

" _Specs on the layout that Jade gave me. They end in another five hundred feet. After that, we're on our own_ ," Nightwing answered.

"What?" Jay startled, forgetting to use the link. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Dick stopped and looked at him. "She said the blueprints were incomplete. Weren't you listening?"

Jason rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Those damned hairs wouldn't lie down for him.

"I guessed that must have been when I fell asleep," he rumbled.

At Dick's stare, which he couldn't really see because of the lenses but knew the other was doing anyway, Jason shrugged his shoulders. "What? Everyone was talking and it all kind of blended together into blah, blah, blah after a while. It's not my fault you've got boring friends!"

"Sh! Just because I haven't _seen_ any kind of security, doesn't mean there isn't any," Dick motioned for quiet. "Jade said that Savage has made numerous upgrades to several portions of the castle over the last decade or so."

Jason glanced around him at the stone walls and floors, the heavy wooden doors. "Other than electric lights, I don't see any major upgrades _here_. Is she sure that West isn't being kept in some other part of the castle? You know, somewhere _not_ underground?"

Dick's lips turned up just a bit. "What's the matter, Jay? I'd think you'd be used to being underground by now."

Jason narrowed his eyes at the grave reference, not that Dickhead could see it through his mask, but he thought maybe the asshole could _feel_ it. After all, the look should have burnt a hole through the faceplate, so hard was Jay glaring.

"Come on, we don't have all day," Dick told him. "Savage has room enough for an army in this fortress. The others won't be able to hold them off forever. We need to find KF and haul ass out of here ASAP."

They rounded a bend and took another short stairwell down to yet another level when Hood pulled up.

"Whoa! I think we've found the upgrades," he gaped.

The stone passage ended abruptly and the corridor ahead was lined with steel plating and modern lighting. The few doors that could be seen were the sleek, gray metal variety. The kind that slid open only when the correct numerical sequence was entered into the door's security keypads.

"Do we start checking doors now?" Hood asked.

"I don't know," Nightwing admitted. "The hall extends a long way and I can see at least two intersections from here. He could be down any one of those."

Hood nodded. "Right. So, if we are to check them all, we're going to need to step up the pace a little."

Instead of answering, Nightwing took off at a jog. Red Hood paused only to glance back the way they came before taking off after him. The hesitation was only a couple of seconds but the gap created between them meant that when the heavy bulkhead slammed down from the ceiling, it came down between them, separating the two. Nightwing was on the far side while Jay was still standing in the stone passageway.

Jason ran forward, searching for the keypad or a panel, something he could hack his way into and get the door open. He found only a blank panel off to the right, set into the door itself. He pounded on the door.

"Wing?! Can you hear me?" He yelled. " _Screw it._ "

" _Use the link_."

Dick's voice had spoken into his head but almost sounded staticky. _What the hell_? Jason didn't think mental links could be subjected to static noise.

" _You okay_?" he asked as he dug into his pocket for a tool in which to pry the panel free.

" _Uh . . . Yeah, but I'm kind of busy right now_ ," Dick answered. " _I think I figured out where all those other guards have been hanging that you've been watching for over the last fifteen minutes_."

Jason popped the panel. " _Shit! Hang on, I'm hacking into the door over here. I should have it up in a minute_."

" _A minute_?" Dick's voice laughed into his head. " _I'd lay money down that it takes you at least ten_."

Okay, he should have expected that Nightwing would find a way to get in a dig on his hacking skills. That Dick could have the door open in under a minute was a given but Jason wasn't _that_ bad!

" _How many_?" Guards, that is . . . Wing would know what he meant.

" _ **None**_ _, now_ ," Dick answered easily. " _Don't fret it. They've been neutralized_."

Jason nodded, even though he knew Dick couldn't see it. " _Right. Well, I should be through in another minute or so unless you see something on your side that will open the bulkhead._ "

" _There's something here but I'm not taking the time to hack it_."

Did Dick voice seem to be cutting out? _How is that happening_?

" _Wing_? _Are you getting further away_? _There seems to be something wrong with the mind link_." In fact, why hadn't the others caught wind of what was going on with the link? Jason began pulling wires until he yanked out a small motherboard. _One of these might do it_ , he thought to himself.

" _Savage obviously has something that can disrupt the link down here. It's okay. I'm going on ahead to find Wally. When you get the door up, return to the bailey and help the others_." Nightwing ordered.

" _No_! _Wait for me_!" Hood snapped angrily. " _I've almost got it, damn it! I'm right behind you_."

" _No_! _Meet back . . . team . . . I . . . this . . . . need . . . -lp_!"

" _Nightwing_? _I'm losing you. Do you need help_?" Jason snipped the white wire . . . Nothing. _Damn it_!

" _Team needs . . .Go_! _I . . . fine_."

" _Nightwing_!" Jason tried the blue wire . . . Again, nothing happened. _Shit_!

" _Wing_?" Jason reached out to his brother again. " _Dick_?"

" _Fuck_ ," Jason growled as he decided to rip the black, green, and yellow wires out all together. The door rumbled as it lifted, only to stutter to a halt three-feet above the floor. "Damn it! That's going to have to be good enough," he groused.

Leaning down, he peered beneath the bulkhead to the other side. Fourteen bodies lay in various positions and contortions. None looked like they would be moving anytime soon but Jason yanked out a handful of zip-ties anyway as he ducked beneath the heavy steel door. He would just make certain that if any _did_ wake up, they didn't get it into their heads to create more trouble for Nightwing and Wally.

He knocked a pistol away from one guard's hand as he rolled him onto his stomach. After he finished restraining the guy, Jason picked up the gun to admire it.

"What is _this_? The 100 or the 101 model?" he asked the unconscious man with a smile. "S &W .40 caliber auto Taurus with an ambidextrous three-way safety and a pearl handle and gold accents . . . What a beauty! This is a fucking nice piece, dude!" The guard didn't answer but Jason wasn't expecting him to. "You know, you can't get these babies anymore. They stopped production or some shit a while back."

Jason shoved the pistol into the back of his waistband under his jacket. He gently prodded the shoulder of the guard who had just donated his fancy firearm to the cause. "Thanks, buddy. I really mean it. You're pretty okay for a morally-bankrupted mercenary who chose to forego his humanity in order to work for the likes of Vandal Savage."

He looked down the corridor but there was no sign of Nightwing and no way to locate him in this fucked-up rabbit warren. Blowing out his breath in frustration, he turned and started back up the stone passageway. He would meet back up with the team but, damn, if he wouldn't kick Dick's ass when they got back.

If that fool got himself into trouble, he'd be on his own. There was no telling if West would be in any condition to assist in his own rescue. Of course, that was _**if**_ Savage's brainwashing hadn't already taken hold and turned Kid Flash into their enemy in the time between Jason's discovery and Dick's rescue attempt. As much as he didn't like Nightwing going off on his own, Red Hood wouldn't be of any help to him if he spent the next three weeks wandering around lost this underground labyrinth.

Hoping he wasn't leaving his brother to face his own death, Jason started back towards the surface at a jog.

" _Be safe, idiot_ ," Jay thought at him, even if the bastard could no longer hear him anymore.

* * *

 **WHAT'D YOU ALL THINK? You love it? The team is back together out to rescue our favorite speedster! Who's ready for the tears to come! be sure to start stocking up on your tissues!**

 **Review let us all know what you think and we'll see you again on July 26th!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	5. Retribution

**WE'RE BACK! HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS LADIES AND GENTS ITS ABOUT TO GET BUMPY!**

* * *

Nightwing ran through the corridor. Hopefully, he was going in the direction of the room where they suspected Savage was keeping Wally. He trusted Jason and the team to have his back and hold off Savage's minions until he's had a chance to rescue him. Only then would they be able to leave because Dick wasn't going without his best friend. No way would he let the Wall-man down again.

There were only five doors on this corridor, any of which could be holding his friend, but only one of them, the door at the end, had extra security measures. He'd bet the Batmobile that Wally was behind that door. He would start his search with it.

With no time to waste, Nightwing quickly bent a knee and began hacking through the security measures. It took ninety seconds longer than it took most of his hacks. _Something_ valuable was being kept in there for certain. There was beep, followed by a click, and then the thud and hiss of the heavy-duty bolts being unlocked.

Nightwing's mouth quirked up in one corner. There wasn't a lock available that he couldn't get through. Maybe all those hours he'd spent in the damp cave below Wayne Manor leaning how to open every lock, crack every safe, and bypass every electronic keypad known to man were worth all the ballgames and after-school activities he had missed while growing up, after all. If they got out of this alive, he made a note to thank Batman for being so thorough in his training.

He pushed a button on his glove and the door slid open. He didn't have to search the room for the guards, they came at him from either side but then, he had been prepared for that. Nightwing leapt forward, using the guard on his right as a launch pad by planting a boot in his chest. His other foot caught his chin, the devastating kick snapping the man's head back, even as he backflipped over the other guard's head. Nightwing grabbed the second guard's shoulders and swung both boots into his back, using his momentum and weight to drive him into the floor. The guard's face smacked the stone floor with enough force to ensure that he wouldn't be a problem any time soon.

A quick scan assured him that there were no other guards lurking about. He noticed the door on the opposite side of the room from him, leading he knew not where. He frowned. This room was some kind of high-tech laboratory. What lay behind the second door? Wally?

Nightwing stalked toward it with a determined stride.

Before he could reach the door, his attention was caught by large alcove off to his left. He skidded to a halt, staring. Within the aclove was a raised platform with a large, freestanding, open circle dominating it, reminding him of a portal to somewhere. Another dimension, perhaps . . . or maybe, in this instance, the speed force. It looked like Jay's Intel was correct. How much more was true? He _hoped_ all of it, otherwise, this excursion was for nothing and he had risked the team's lives on naught but a rumor and a whim.

Nightwing's gaze swept the alcove. In the opposite corner, separate from the mystery portal, was a more machinery and a pod . . . similar to the one that held Superboy all those years ago when he, Kid Flash, and Aqualad had found him buried deep within the bowels of Cadmus.

He hesitated.

The panels were opaque. Nightwing couldn't see what was being held in there, if anything. It could be empty . . . Or, it could be that it was being used to hold a certain redheaded speedster captive. He glanced once more at the second door leading out of the lab. Just because he couldn't see any cameras didn't mean there weren't any present. If there were, then whoever was behind that door was privy to the actions going on out here. But, surely, if that were the case, any other security personnel would have shown themselves as soon as Nightwing had taken out the first two guards.

He would check the pod first. If Wally wasn't there, then Nightwing could press on through that last remaining door. He would press on and, if necessary, tear this fortress apart stone by stone until he found his friend. But, if Wally was there in the pod . . . it might be possible to rescue him without anyone realizing that Nightwing had found him. There was a chance that Wally could be weak or injured. It was worth the extra few minutes if it meant getting his injured friend out of here without the risks involved in a battle.

Stepping over to the machine, Nightwing quickly hooked his wrist computer to the control panel and plowed through the firewall protections. He pulled up the files and found only one, entitled, helpfully enough, KF.

 _Well, that makes this easier_ , he thought, amused. He laughed softly, shaking his head as he checked the parameters of the program. _So much for creativity_. Not that he cared. Nightwing's trained eyes scanned the information rapidly, searching for the command that would reveal the pod's interior.

 _Were they cloning Wally like they had Conner and Roy before him_? _No . . . No, they weren't_. _The pod is for_ . . . he stopped to reread it. _The pod is required to 'de-phase' the subject_? _Is that correct_? _What does 'de-phase' even mean, anyway_? _Is that even a word_?

Nightwing glanced behind him. So far, so good. No one was barging into the room with the intention of separating his head from his torso. He might be able to pull this off, finding and rescuing KF, after all. Despite this, Dick couldn't shake the feeling that made the hairs rise on his neck. He couldn't hear anything beyond the hum of the machine in front of him. The silence made it seem a little surreal down here, like stepping into a different world than the one above him.

All he wanted to do was yank the pod open and drag his friend out of there but would doing so possibly harm Wally in the process? The term ' _de-phase_ ' continued to run through his mind and it bothered him. With no immediate threat breathing down his neck, Nightwing decided that taking his time doing this would be worth the risk of discovery. The last thing he wanted to do was rush this and end up possibly killing his friend. Not after coming so close.

Discovering the control that cleared the opaque film on the pod's glass case, Nightwing flipped the switch. Seconds later, he was gaping at the body of Kid Flash!

" _My God_! How are you even alive?" Dick breathed softly.

Wally didn't appear to be conscious but, even more alarming, Wally didn't appear to be all there either. The term _de-phasing_ suddenly became as clear as the glass separating him from his friend. Even as he watched, Wally seemed to go from solid to insubstantial . . . but only here and there, in patches. First his arm; then a foot; next, his chest; a thigh; a shoulder . . . part of his face!

Despite this phasing in and out, Savage had Wally chained in place with shackles on each of his extremities. One would have thought the shackles would drop off when Wally's arm or leg phased out of existence but they didn't. Instead, they appeared to take on the phasing attributes of their prisoner. When he phased out, so did they, keeping the speedster locked in place.

Swallowing thickly, Nightwing wondered what would happen if he opened the pod now? Would Wally phase back out of existence permanently? Would the flickering in and out of this dimension continue unabated? How the hell could Dick get him out of here so that they could find a way to help him if that was the case? Or . . .

He took a deep breath. Or, would Wally become solid?

Could the pod be doing this to him as a way of preventing his escape? Because Wally had mastered phasing through solid objects before his death . . . uh, disappearance . . . whatever happened to him. Nightwing shook his head.

 _Before his disappearance_ , he corrected himself. _Wally never died_!

He searched the program for the information that would clue him into what was going on. He had no choice. He couldn't stay here for days waiting and he sure as hell wouldn't leave Wally behind now that he had found him. So, the question remained, how could he extricate his friend from the pod safely?

It said the program had been running for . . . _two weeks_?! Nightwing looked at Wally in sympathy. Did the phasing hurt? Was Wally in pain right now? What had it been like when he was first extracted from the speed force? Then Nightwing looked more closely at his friend in silent contemplation . . .

The flickering didn't happen all the time, he noted. Several long minutes could pass between them and the flicker would literally only last a second or two. They seemed to slow down even in the time that had passed since Nightwing had first discovered him. He couldn't just continue standing here. Eventually, someone would come here to check on their prisoner, especially since they knew the team was here. No. After everything that Jay had overheard while in Ra's compound, leaving Wally was not an option.

"Forgive me, Wally, if this is the wrong thing to do," Nightwing whispered to him and keyed the command to open the pod.

The noises that accompanied the unlocking of the mechanism sounded loud. Nightwing spared a glance behind him before moving in quickly as the glass case opened with a slight, depressurizing hiss. Wally was still wearing his Kid Flash costume. He looked exactly as he did the last time Dick had seen him and not as though three whole years had passed.

His friend flickered one last time and then seemed to settle. Biting his lip, Nightwing reached out and touched him. Solid . . . and _warm_ beneath the material of his suit.

 _He's alive_! Excited, Nightwing reached up to touch his shoulder and gave him a little shake.

"Wally?" Nightwing called out to him in a whisper, then a little louder. " _Kid Flash_? KF, can you hear me?"

"Mmm . . ." The sound rumbled in Wally's throat. "Mmwha?" His head rolled to the side.

Suddenly, Dick could breathe again. _Thank God_!

" _KF, wake up_! We need to get you out of here. Come on, open your eyes for me, pal!" He shook him again.

Dark red lashes fluttered open and green eyes stared down at him with a blank expression.

" _Hurry up_! Wake up and get your shit together!" Dick snapped at him. "We gotta go!"

"D-Di . . ."

"Yeah, it's Nightwing," Dick was careful to say aloud. If there was a camera here and anyone was listening in to an audio feed, the last thing he needed was for Wally to blab his secret identity. "I came to rescue your ass again. You can thank me later. Right now, I need to get these shackles off of you so we can make like a tree and leave."

Wally blinked and a frown creased his forehead.

Nightwing smirked. "What? You had to have missed hearing my lovely puns!"

"Th-That . . . was _horrible_ ," Wally mumbled.

The smirk became a grin. "I _knew_ you were in there somewhere!" If Dick had to blink rapidly for a minute before he could see, his lenses would hide the emotion until he could shove it back into its box. Time for celebrating could come _after_ they were safe.

Unlike the high- tech strewn throughout the rest of the room, the shackles holding Wally in place were standard issue, low-tech cuffs. No trouble for Nightwing but he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. He pulled out his lockpicks.

"Wh-Where?" Wally licked his lips and tried again. "Where am I?"

Nightwing didn't bother looking as he unfastened first one cuff around Wally's ankle and then moved to the other.

"Turkey. Vandal Savage has a fortress here hidden inside a crumbling medieval castle," he answered. "Which is all the more reason we need to get out of here with all due haste."

"Savage? T-Turkey? The country or the b-bird because, man, I'm starving. H-How . . .?" Wally blinked down at the top of the ebony head. "How did I get here?"

"Long story," Dick replied. "I'll fill you in later. Needless to say, the entire team's here to save your sorry ass. They've been upstairs cleaning up the last of Savage's men while I searched you out."

Wally shook his head. "D-Don't 'member . . . much."

"Might be a smart angle to play up," Dick smiled. "Artemis is probably going to kill you for real after this." His smile faded as he paused to glance up. "Seriously, what kind of idiot retires from the hero gig only to sacrifice himself to save the world? You are going to run out of those nine lives of yours pretty soon."

He dropped his head down to finish up. The left cuff was giving him a hard time. It's locking mechanism was sticky and it had nothing to do with the blurry vision he was still struggling with behind the mask. _It must be allergy season_ , Dick reasoned to himself.

"I mean, you've got to be on number seven or eight by now," Dick rambled on. "One of these days, I may not be around to pull you butt out of the fire. And _then_ what are you going to do?"

"Do?" Wally asked. The speedster was still pretty out of it but he seemed to be coming along nicely, though happily, he hadn't phased out once since Nightwing had opened the pod door.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do," Nightwing instructed as the lock finally released and the shackle fell away. He moved quickly to the last cuff. "You're going to leave the heroic sacrifices to the idiots still in the business. Got that? You and Artemis are going to have a nice life, growing old and senile together, and you're both going to leave the heroic sacrificing to the professionals. After all, it's what I signed up for, you know?"

Vandal Savage watched on the monitors as his fortress was invaded and turned into a battle zone. The young ones had somehow discovered his plans and come to the speedster's rescue. He ground his teeth in annoyance. He wasn't angry, however. When one lived forever, one learned how to play the Long Game. If the young ones proved successful, it was a mere delay to him, nothing more, as he had already set in motion the next stage of his plan. Despite the young heroes' interference, Savage's long game would continue to advance.

When the door to the outer room flew open, he had expected it. Indeed, the alarm had sounded the moment that Nightwing had attempted to access the outer door's security panel. He _was_ surprised, however, at the ease with which the Batman's first protégé had managed the task. Savage's eyes narrowed. He would have to devise a punishment for the man in charge of his security systems after this was over. Maybe toss him off of a cliff or feed him to the crocodiles. Perhaps a good old-fashioned beheading would do. He hadn't enjoyed that in a century or more. But the choice would depend upon which of his many compounds he visited next.

 _Good help is so hard to find these days_. _People were more dependable when their lives were on the line_ , he had discovered. He had mistakenly allowed himself to become too soft, too civilized, and now this setback was the result.

Savage turned to the door, preparing to get a little exercise when Nightwing finally burst through the door, only . . . it never happened. He glanced back at the monitor and saw that the young man hadn't rushed through the lab in a mad, emotional dash as any of his teammates might have. Instead, Nightwing looked around first, had noticed the technology in the room, and had discovered the pearl.

 _Unfortunate_.

But the young ones hadn't won the day yet. Was he angry? No . . . Vandal Savage didn't get angry. What Vandal Savage did do was exact _revenge_.

His hand slid down to caress the blade at his hip, his fingers stroking the familiar ivory grip of one of his most prized possessions. When one lived as long as he had, moth or rust overtook most of his material possessions. Savage no longer allowed himself to get sentimental about most of his belongings. He outlived them all but it was no matter, they were easy enough to replace . . . All, except for this one.

Not many men could boast they owned the blade that had murdered them. Or that they had used that self-same blade to visit upon their murderer a fitting end. Of this, Savage was certain he was the only one.

He still remembered the sting of the blade as it had sliced through the tendons and muscles of his throat all those centuries ago. He remembered watching as his heart pumped pint after pint of his life's blood onto the Persian rugs that had decorated the floor of his tent. Genghis Khan had a habit of leaving the weapon behind embedded in the body of his victim as a means of paying Death for the task of escorting his enemies to Sheol. Savage wasn't nearly as generous. After he had ended Khan's life, Savage had kept blade. The Mongol bastard could pay for his own damned passage to the netherworld.

The scabbard was a work of art. It and the blade beneath it were gold, the scabbard had been worked with expert hands and encrusted with numerous jewels. Rust never touched it. Although a soft metal, the blade had only a few nicks in it. Savage had long ago sought out a sorcerer to bless the bite of his blade with unusual strength and with a degree of sharpness that few other man-made weapons could claim.

Sliding through the door, Savage used the architecture of the room and its equipment to shield him from view. He moved with an almost unnatural stillness born of many millennia of practice. Neither the bird nor the speedster noticed his approach. Nightwing was too intent on his task and Kid Flash had yet to fully regain his wits about him.

He smiled as he made his move. This was the Batman's protégé . . . He would have only a moment before the boy spotted him, a moment, however, was all Savage needed.

His blade was already in hand. He stepped forward, simultaneously plunging the golden dagger deep.

Wally blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his muddled thoughts. Nightwing was working the shackles around his ankles that bound him to this machine.

Nightwing . . . Dick, his friend, was speaking to him but Wally was having trouble following his words. _Savage_? _The team_ . . . _was here_? _Artemis_?

 _Artemis_!

His thoughts ground to a halt as the memory of the blonde archer who had won his heart appeared in his mind's eye. The flashes of events, both past and future, had flown past him at speeds too great for even Kid Flash to follow for too long. The blurred visions had been eating away at his sanity forever and Wally leapt at the opportunity to latch onto this one memory as his anchor, a way to help his consciousness ground itself back into reality.

Nightwing . . . _Dick_ had moved on to the shackle on his wrist. He was still speaking to him. _What is he saying_?

"Leave the heroic sacrifices to the professionals. It's what I signed up for, you know?"

 _Sacrifices_? _What_?

Wally frowned at his friend's words even as a rush of movement caught his eye. Confused, he glanced up just in time to see a man . . . Who was he? . . . step forward and suddenly Dick's face contorted in shock. Like someone had cut the strings of a puppet, Dick collapsed at his attacker's feet.

 _NO_!

" _NO_!" Wally screamed. The word ripped its way out of his throat.

The fog that had clouded his mind disintegrated as horror tore through him, bringing the last of his memories with it. Without conscious thought, Wally sped up his molecules and his hand slipped through the metal shackle on his wrist like it had been made of water. Snarling, Wally launched himself at the enemy.

Savage bent over Nightwing's body, yanking hard at his weapon but it had gotten lodged against the young man's spine. A nick in the blade, he suspected, had caught on one of the vertebrae. Nightwing grunted, gasping in shock at the unexpected assault.

Savage growled in aggravation at the thought of losing his one prized possession but after his initial aborted attempt, he released it and stepped back. Perhaps it was fate that he, too, should leave the dagger behind, embedded in the body of his victim.

The scream that rent the air, but it hadn't belonged to Nightwing. Instead, it belonged to his captive, the speedster. Savage looked up just in time to see a blur of motion launch itself at him.

There was some power behind the attack. Wally slammed into Savage with a highly accelerated speed, something Kid Flash hadn't always been able to do from a stationary position without a running start. It was enough to send the two tumbling across the stone tiles, knocking over tables that had been bolted to the floor. It might have hurt if Wally was capable of feeling anything other than a blinding rage. Savage's body hits the far wall with enough force to crack the mortar and leave an indention in the two foot thick wall. Mercy is the last thing on Wally mind as he begins hitting Savage in the face over and over. Such was his speed that the sound of his fist connecting with flesh resembled the staccato rhythm of machine gun fire.

"I. _Will_. Kill. You," Wally snarled into his hamburger face.

Savage grunted and managed to bring his arms up enough to block further blows. "Kill me?" he laughed, bloody spittle flying. "Or save your friend? Is my temporary death worth more to you than _his_ life?"

Wally's fist froze in mid-air.

"I guarantee, if Nightwing dies, it won't be temporary," Savage reminded him.

Instead of hitting the man again, Wally grabbed Vandal's shirt and slammed him back against the wall one last time, and then, a millisecond later, he was kneeling next to his friend . . . his _best_ friend who had given everything he had to save Wally from the clutches of Vandal Savage and the Light.

Perhaps he should care more that Savage could get away, but the only thing that mattered to Wally now was the bloody fluid that was leaking from around the pearl-handled blade. Blood-tinged liquid that the speedster suspected was actually Dick's spinal fluid.

" _Oh God_! _No_ . . . _Don't do this_ ," Wally whispered to whatever deity was listening. "Nightwing? Wing? Can you hear me? You're going to be okay, buddy. I've got you now," he assured his friend loudly.

Dick grunted. He was still laying on his side, unable to move. "I can hear you," he gasped, "just fine. He stabbed me . . . in the back . . . not the ears."

Wally blinked back tears and snorted. "Stop it! Don't be an ass. I can't think when you make me laugh." His hands hovered over him, unsure if removing the weapon would be worse than leaving it in.

Dick laughed, a sharp, abrupt sound followed by a whine. Through gritted teeth, he tried to feel for the wound behind him. The pain was staggering in its fury but there was something wrong. The pain was rocketing up his spine from his waist, extending throughout his torso and threatening to take off the top of his head but . . . but from below his waist there was . . .

 _Nothing_!

Below his waist, he felt _nothing_ and it terrified him.

Wally caught his hand and gently pushed it away. "Stop. You don't want to do that."

"Is it . . . Is it bad?" Dick asked hesitantly.

Was that him talking? His voice sounded like it belonged to a frightened child. He was also panting heavily. If he wasn't careful, he would hyperventilate.

"It's . . . not good." Wally answered weakly.

"I need to get up," Dick told him suddenly.

Some small part of his brain was warning him that this was a bad idea, that he was going into shock, but nothing was as important to Dick at that moment than the need to climb to his feet. If he could just stand up, he knew he could walk this off. Bracing his hands on the floor, he found he was unable to lift himself more than a few inches before a shriek of pain flew up his back and into his skull. He screamed through his clenched teeth. His world turned black and red as he pounded the floor in impotent rage. Tears of pain and fear leaked from the corners of his eyes.

 _Oh, God_. . .

He'd really screwed up this time. Batman was going to kill him . . . That is, if he didn't die first.

"What? _No_! _Shit_! Stop it! You can't get up, Wing. You shouldn't move," Wally told him. " _Stop trying to move, dammit_!"

"Both of you should try to move," Vandal Savage's voice drifted over Wally's shoulder, "although, only one of you has a prayer of outrunning what is coming."

"What are you still doing here? Do you _want_ me to kill you?" Wally snarled at him.

"Tens of thousands have tried," Savage admitted. "Few have succeeded. I am back before they can clean the blood from their daggers, and then it is my enemies who are condemned to Sheol for eternity."

Furious, Wally leapt to his feet and shoved Savage back several steps.

"I'm more than willing to try _my_ hand at it," Wally growls at him.

Savage laughed and tossed something shiny to him. Wally caught it out of the air. He glanced down at it quickly, frowning at the ancient, bejeweled scabbard before looking back at his enemy.

"It's a matched set," Savage told him conversationally. "It seems a shame to break it up. It's quite valuable, you know. Genghis Khan gifted me with it a long time ago. Tell Nightwing to enjoy it with my compliments, if he lives."

Wally started to throw the scabbard back at the man, but Savage stayed his hand with another startling announcement.

"I've set several explosives in and around my castle," Savage told him. "You will need to get at least a half a mile from here to be safe. They are due to go off in five minutes. Nightwing is doomed but, one wonders, will the rest of your friends be able to escape in time?"

 _Artemis_!

Wally looked down at Dick. He wasn't sure who all was here, where they were, or if he would be able to get everyone to safety in time! Would he be faster now or had his retrieval left him even slower than he had been before?

 _Fuck_!

"You might be able to save the rest of your friends if you leave now. Forget Nightwing," the bastard told him. "He is finished anyway." Savage left then by the door through which he had entered.

"S'okay, Wally," Dick panted. "Jay must have . . . gotten through . . . the bulkhead by now . . . I contacted . . . the others . . . They're evacuating. _Go_!"

Wally leaned over him. "Go? I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You _have_ to!" Dick snapped at him. "Don't let this be in vain!"

"In vain? What are you talking about?"

"Go, Wally . . . Before it's too late," Dick groaned. "We came here . . . _for_ _ **you**_."

Wally wiped at his eyes angrily. "You _shouldn't_ have! I'd have escaped from that thing eventually."

"Wally, please . . . I-I can't . . . I can't lose you again!" Dick insisted. "It can't . . . be my fault . . . not this time, too."

Wally couldn't see any help for it. Dick shouldn't be moved but there was a bomb.

 _Bombs_! he corrected himself.

He felt like he was trapped inside a poorly-made, B-rated movie without the script. The odds that his friend might walk again after this dropped from miracle to nonexistent but, at least he'd be alive . . . And, maybe, if Dick lived long enough, he might one day forgive Wally for what he was about to do.

"I'm sorry, Dick," Wally told him. "This is going to hurt."

"Wha-?"

Wally slipped his arms beneath Nightwing's body, being careful to not dislodge the dagger. His friend could bleed out should the blade be removed without medical personnel standing by to either stem the flow the blood or else replace it.

"I hope to hell you're right about the others because I have to save you, you idiot," Wally told Dick as he picked him up.

Dick gasped and, suddenly, his upper body went as limp as his lower body. He had passed out in Wally's arms.

 _Good_ , he thought. _Dick would have hated being conscious for the ride he's about to take_.

Before the thought died in his head, Wally sped out of the room and up the steps. He only knew they were underground and to get out of the castle meant going up.

 _A real-life, fucking castle_! He ran into numerous dead ends along the way but then another set of stairs would appear and Wally would take them. He discovered along the way that he was faster than he remembered. But even faster, it still took him longer than he liked to get out of the castle and away.

Once beyond the curtain wall, Wally could speed up even more. He was overtaking the team a second later. Amazingly, he could see that M'gann was carrying the archers as she flew them towards safety. She was obviously more powerful than he remembered and he wondered in that millisecond how long had he been gone? Superboy was running flat out with Kaldur in his arms and making good time for someone who was not a speedster.

When the castle exploded, debris rained down around them. The edge of the shockwave plowed through the team, knocking them over like bowling pins. It caught up to Wally a second later, the force of it flinging Nightwing out of his arms even as Wally went tumbling long the ground for several long yards. A blanket of darkness engulfed him before the dust could settle.

* * *

 **AND THE WALLMAN'S BACK! Who's blown away? Pun intended... So who's screaming? We want to know who's freaking and who can't even! What's gonna happen next? Who knows?**

 **Review let us all know what you think and we'll see you again on September 26th!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	6. Brother's Remorse

**We're back! get ready children it's about to be a very bumpy ride! So grab those tissues buckle in and enjoy!**

* * *

Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings. Consciousness didn't sweep over him but took its time, trickling down into his subconsciousness. Reality, too, came to him in spurts, little bits and pieces of the world swirling back to him. _Dizzy_ . . . He felt dizzy again but, this time, without the billions of images flashing across his vision, playing games with his sanity. The darkness felt cool and calm despite the spinning. Eventually, gravity made itself known and Wally West discovered that he was laying on his back. A rock was grinding itself into his hip, moving from awareness to annoyance to pain over the course of what felt like a thousand years.

Sound followed as the ringing faded, allowing other noises to separate themselves enough that Wally could begin to make out a little of the words being spoken around him.

" . . .ly. Can . . . ear me? Wal . . . up! . . . ease, wake . . ."

"Nngh," he groaned. "W-Wha . . .?"

"Wally? Please, baby, say something! Let me know you're alright."

 _That voice_! _I know that voice_. A glimpse of sunshine hair and warm, cocoa eyes accompanied that sweet, scratchy voice that made him want to laugh. He thought she must be a dream . . .

 _Ouch_! But maybe less real than a rock that currently embedding itself into his flesh. Awareness had taken its time, creeping up on him until now, when it suddenly pounced. Wally came awake abruptly with a start. He jerked upright, nearly colliding, forehead to nose, with a blonde wearing a tiger-mask. The world tilted dangerously onto its side and his hand grasped the woman's shoulder to steady himself.

"Are you okay? Speak to me, Wally! Tell me you're still with me."

He squinted. "A-Artemis?"

She smiled, tears of disbelief and joy were streaming down her face beneath her mask. "Tigress now," she corrected. "Oh God, Wally! I thought you were dead! All this time . . ."

She threw herself into his arms and he fell back under their combined weight. Where was his strength now? He looked down at the bundle of woman in his arms and grinned, hugging her in return. He hurt all over and was so exhausted he thought he could sleep for a solid year but he would bear up through all of it because he didn't want to miss another moment with his 'little 'Mis'.

"I thought so, too, babe. I never expected to see you again but then Nightwing was there and he . . . and . . . and he . . . Oh no! _Oh God_!" Wally cried out as his most recent memories returned in force.

Shoving Artemis to the side, he struggled to his feet, swaying as he searched the area around him for his friend. Wally had fallen and he had dropped him . . . _Oh God, Dick_!

" _Nightwing_! Where is he? Someone . . . help! He's been injured. Savage . . ." His knees gave out then and only Artemis' arms saved him from falling on his face.

"Easy, Wally," she warned him. "You need to sit down before you fall down."

He couldn't, though, not until he knew for certain Dick had survived their escape. He spun around, nearly falling again but for Artie's support. _There_! _That guy in the bomber jacket and the red helmet was kneeling beside someone. Who was he_? Wally didn't recognize him but he was holding Nightwing in his arms, cradling him like a child as he called out for help.

Superboy . . . Conner got to them there first, followed quickly by M'gann and Kaldur and Roy.

 _Dear God, this was the original team_! _All of them . . . together again_! _They had all come to rescue him, so why had Dick been alone when he had freed Wally from the pod_? _Why the hell hadn't someone been there to watch Nightwing's back_?

"Be careful!" Wally called out. "Savage stabbed him!"

"What?" Artemis gasped. She had been so caught up in her own emotions after seeing Wally again, she hadn't noticed that Nightwing wasn't getting up.

"He stabbed Nightwing in the back!" Wally felt his legs giving out from under him. Unable to bear his full weight, Artemis dropped to the ground with him, easing Wally to the ground as gently as she could. "The knife might still be there! It was still in him when we escaped!"

"Easy," she reminded him. "You've a ways to go before you're full strength yet."

But panic was swelling up inside of him as the seriousness of Dick's injury reasserted itself in his mind. "No, you don't understand!" Wally told her. "He said he couldn't feel his legs. I think that bastard cut his spinal cord!"

"Oh God," she breathed, paling at the implication. "Stay here," she ordered him, leaping to her feet and running toward the others.

Wally watched as Artemis joined the others where they gathered around their fallen teammate. He couldn't stay behind, however, and forced himself to stand. The vertigo nearly sent him back to his knees but Wally plowed through it, staggering the remaining yards between them.

Dick was unconscious and laying now on his side, the others finding the knife, the damned thing was somehow still buried in his back. Conner reached for it but the red helmet stayed his hand.

"No! Don't touch it! He needs to be in a medical facility before its removed in case he begins bleeding out," the stranger snapped.

The stranger's voice was deep. It felt like it should be familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Red Hood is right," Kaldur told them. His voice the one of reason.

Conner backed off. "Then what are we supposed to do? He's still bleeding."

Artemis looked up, stricken. "Guys? That's spinal fluid, not blood . . . Or, at least, not just blood."

Roy growled low in his throat and stood up. "Fuck this! You mean we came here to save Wally only to get Dick killed?"

Anger surged. Roy was writing Dick off already? Before Wally could vent, Red Hood snarled at him.

"Fuck you, Arrow! He's not dead yet! We've got to get him home . . . to Gotham."

"Gotham City is too far," Kaldur interrupted. "We will take him to the Watchtower. M'gann, call the ship and bring us the back board and neck brace. I will let the League know we are on our way with a critical case. Conner, put pressure on the wound as best you can but do not jar the knife," he reminded him, following the advice of the new guy. The Atlantian stood up then, and held out his hand to Wally. "It is good to see you alive and well, my friend. How do you feel?"

Despite himself, Wally smiled, taking Kaldur's hand and pulling the other man into a hug. "I feel okay," he assured him. "Thanks to Nightwing."

Kaldur's smile slid away. They looked down at their fallen comrade with worried expressions. "We are going to take care of him. He will pull through this, you will see. His stubbornness will not let him do otherwise," he said before moving away to make the call.

Wally didn't envy him that conversation.

"From your mouth to God's ear," Roy murmured as he stepped over to slap Wally on the back. "And you! Back from the dead. Why am I surprised? That makes two of you now."

Wally grunted under Roy's heavy hand but pulled the older man into a bear hug. When he leaned back, he tilted his head curiously. "Two of us? What do you mean?"

Roy threw a thumb in the direction of the Red Hood. "I suppose you don't recognize him with his hood on but he had to find a new gig since someone else is currently occupying his Robin mask."

Wally frowned, looking back and forth between the two of them. "His _Robin_ mask? You're not talking about Tim, are you? Did something happen?"

Artemis stepped into his other side, sliding an arm around his waist to give him some much-appreciated support. "No," she told him, "not _Tim_."

Wally scowled harder. "The only other Robin besides Dick and Tim was . . ."

The Red Hood used one hand to thumb the latch of his helmet open and pulled it off. He was masked beneath his helmet as well but Wally knew the shape of that stubborn chin, the smirking lips, and the slightly-crooked nose. He gaped in shock.

"Welcome back, Wallace," Jason said. "Forget me already?"

" _J-Jason_?! It _is_ Jason, isn't it? _No_! I didn't . . . My God, _how_ . . .? I went to your _funeral_!" Wally gasped, having trouble believing what his eyes were telling him.

"Nice to hear," Jason smirked. "At least, one of us was there."

"You weren't . . .?"

Jay shook his head only once but it was enough to know the younger man had no desire to swap stories of the afterlife. "Apparently, no one thought to check the casket first. What's taking M'gann so long?"

The Martian Bioship decloaked before Jason could finish his question. The door appeared in the side. M'gann exited the ship, the backboard floating along beside her to help safely transport Nightwing to the Watchtower. M'gann used her telekinesis to lift Nightwing up as Jason, Conner, and Roy supported his spine as they positioned Dick carefully on his side. It was precarious but they couldn't risk moving him any more that he had been. Kaldur followed, stating he would be flying the ship to the Watchtower so that M'gann could concentrate on keeping Nightwing stable.

Any smiles for Wally's resurrection were lost in the concern they all had now for Dick. Nightwing flitted in and out of a semi-conscious state throughout the move, but shock kept him insensate to his surroundings. The jubilation they should be feeling for return of one of their own was overshadowed by their fear for the fate of yet another of their members.

xxxxx

The Martian Bioship was fast - really fast. But, when you were watching your unconscious brother lie bruised and bleeding, with a knife embedded in his back, in front of you, it couldn't fly fast enough.

Jason sat beside Dick, his helmet lying forgotten nearby. He had pulled his knees up and rested his arms on top of them as he stared off into the distance, stone-faced. Jason was aware of the other team members watching him cautiously and was thankful he still had his red domino mask still between him and the rest of them. Everyone was fully aware that he was supposed to have been Nightwing's backup. And all of them knew exactly when it was he had rejoined the fight in the bailey and they knew, from Kid Flash's account, that Nightwing had been alone in the room when Savage had stabbed him. Every single person present knew he had failed to uphold his part in the mission.

It had been _his_ responsibility to watch his brother's back, his sole responsibility.

It didn't matter that Nightwing should have been capable of watching his own damned back. It didn't matter that his brother had ordered him to return to the others while he went on alone, Jason should have known better than to leave him to do this on his own. Sure, it was true that he hadn't known where the idiot had disappeared to once Jay had finally broken through the bulkhead, but it wouldn't have been that difficult tracking him down . . .

 _And since when have I started taking orders from Dick again, anyway_?

"Do you want to talk about it?" M'gann asked him quietly where she was perched on the other side of the prone hero.

He sighed. Apparently, M'gann was adept enough that she could hold Nightwing immobile while chatting it up with Jason. Only Jason didn't _want_ to talk. He was perfectly happy brooding in miserable silence while continuing to beat himself about the head with his guilt.

 _Maybe if I ignored her_ . . .

"He's going to be okay," she told him softly. "My uncle and Dr. Midnite are already at the Watchtower, waiting for us to arrive. They'll take care of him."

"You _know_ that, do you?" Jason glanced at her. "I'm sorry but I guess I didn't realize that your powers included precognition."

She blinked at his biting tone. "I . . . They don't, but it doesn't help matters having such a defeatist attitude. We have to have faith that . . ."

That made him laugh but it wasn't a joyful sound.

"Faith?" The word came out harsh as he couldn't reign in his disbelief at her naivety. "Martians age faster than humans, correct?" At her nod, he continued. "You were, like, _fifty_ when you joined the team and now you're even older."

"Well, that's true but Martian adolescence lasts far longer than humans. I'm technically equal to a twenty-four-year old on earth," she told him.

"Twenty-four, and you can sit there, with Nightwing lying between us - that fucking knife sticking out of his back, for God's sake - and tell me that everything is going to be just hunky-dory?" Jason asked her, incredulous, as his voice rose in volume with every word. "You expect what? That the League is going to save him?"

M'gann hesitated, startled by his vehemence. "Well . . . Yes."

"Where was the League when Wally died? Hell, where were they when ' _I_ ' died, for that matter?" Jason's voice was rising and now he had caught the attention of everyone in the ship but he didn't care. " **The League can't even fucking save themselves! Wally's probably going to be okay. The team will probably be okay, too, eventually, but** _ **Nightwing**_ **?!** " He was yelling now. " _ **Nightwing is NOT going to be 'okay'**_ **!** "

They all stared at him, except Kaldur, who continued to pilot the ship into the docking bay. Jason had risen to his feet during his rant and was now glaring at M'gann and anyone else who dared meet his gaze. He was breathing hard, as if he had just run three straight marathons in a row. He took a deep breath and, when he spoke again, his voice was . . . well, certainly not calm but normal - and angry - but when had he ever been anything other than angry? He couldn't remember . . .

"It doesn't matter what you tell yourselves. Despite your ' _faith_ '," he spat, "this isn't some kind of goddamn _fantasy_ world where the good guys always win and its heroes never die." Jason looked around at each of them. "Nightwing isn't going to magically flip his way out of this shit."

M'gann was gaping at him, speechless, so Artemis tried to deny his claim. "How can you say that, Jason, when you're standing here with us again. And Wally . . ."

Jason spun around. "Don't you get it, Artie? Wally was never dead, he was missing. And my resurrection was more of a curse than it was a miracle!" He snapped his fingers in the air in front of her face and hissed. "You guys need to wake up cause this is Dick's fucking reality now."

He turned away and grabbed his helmet, jamming it on his head. He refused to look back in Artemis' direction again because, the truth was, had Jason known when he had overheard Ra's and Talia talking that this would have been the outcome, he would never had told Dick about any of it. For Jay, there was no choice when it came to his brother or his brother's friend.

The hatch appeared in the side of the ship and they could see several Leaguers already moving towards them with a gurney, ready to assist the injured party. Jason didn't wait for anyone to reprimand him or attempt to comfort him. _Like they would bother trying after this_ , he growled sarcastically in his own mind as he stomped down the ramp. He shoved past everyone.

Jason didn't think they even knew the identity of the downed hero yet. He didn't remember Kaldur giving out that information when he requested the med bay readied and a medical team standing by in the hangar. They would in another second, though, and then some poor schmuck would be left with the unenviable job of informing the Batman that his former sidekick, _his Golden Boy_ , was down.

Guilt rose up in his throat again to choke him. He had to get out of here, but there was no way the team was going to leave any time soon. No, Jason would have to find his own way home.

 _Dick was down_ . . .

Based upon Jason's limited knowledge of the human anatomy, even should his brother somehow lived through this, he didn't think the acrobat would be getting back up ever again.

* * *

 **Who hates us! Lets hear it! All the nasty anger you have for us! Don't lie we know you all love angst we're giving you!**

 **Review let us all know what you think and we'll see you again on October 26th!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	7. Reunion

**So first things first I apologize for updating a day late. My life has been a tad but hectic and to be completely honest this update would not have been posted at all without all the help and support of the totally awesome** **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt. So be sure to let her know how awesome she is! I hope you all enjoy a nice little reunion!**

* * *

The silence that followed in Jason's wake was short, Dr. Midnite had come in with the floating gurney to check on the condition of his patient. Martian Manhunter, Black Canary, and the Atom, who had become his normal-size to better assist, had clambered up into the Bioship. There was a gasp when Canary realized, not only who their patient was, but saw the injury itself. If Jason's exit hadn't brought home to the team the seriousness of Nightwing's condition, the grim expressions of their mentors would have done it.

Midnite began asking questions and barking orders immediately.

"How much has he been moved since the injury?"

The team turned to Wally. They only knew the amount of movement it had taken to get Nightwing on the backboard and into the ship. Everything that had happened before that was unknown. Artemis had her arm around Wally's waist ever since they had first entered the Bioship; she tightened her hold on him now as if she was aware of the guilt flowing through his veins was thicker than his blood.

It was his fault. The one time in his life that Wally had needed his speed, he had been too slow - too slow clearing his head to realize the danger they had been in, too slow to react when Savage had stabbed Dick in the back with his dagger. Nightwing had risked everything to save Wally from being turned into a puppet by the Light and used as a weapon against the League, and how had he repaid him? Moving him when it was obvious that Dick had a critical spinal injury and then losing his grip on him when the explosion's shockwave had slammed into them.

 _Too damned slow_ . . .

"There . . . There were bombs. The entire place was set to explode," Wally choked out. "I'm sorry. I had no choice."

At the sound of his voice, every eye was on him.

"Kid . . .?" Canary's voice broke off as her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, dear God! Wally?"

Artemis stepped back as Canary rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck.

"How? We thought . . . Everyone believed you were dead! When . . .?" she asked.

"How about if Kid Flash tells us everything after we get Nightwing into surgery?" Dr. Midnite reminded them as he supervised J'onn and M'gann's transfer of his patient to the gurney. "Is there anything else we need to know?"

"Just that . . . It's bad," he clenched his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the looks of recrimination when he told them how badly he screwed up. "When the blast knocked me off my feet, I lost my grip. I must have blacked out a few moments after that. When I came to, Nightwing was several feet away from me. I don't know what happened when he fell."

"I expect you to stick around, Wally. I may have more questions and I also want to do a thorough check up on you as well as soon as we know that Nightwing is stable." Midnite told him, and then, they were rushing Dick down the ramp and on toward the med bay.

"I'll expect your report later," Canary told the team as she followed in Nightwing's wake. "After Nightwing's been stabilized and Wally's been seen to."

Kaldur sighed as they were left to themselves. The look of worry faded a bit, however, when he turned to face Wally once again, placing one hand upon the other's shoulder. "It is good you are back. You were sorely missed by everyone but perhaps more so by some than others." He looked meaningful at Artemis. "Artemis and Nightwing spearheaded this rescue after Red Hood happened upon some information that led us to you."

"Jason is back," Wally murmured. "That's just . . . incredible!"

Artemis returned to her previous position. He smiled down at her as her arm snaked around him once more. Wally had a feeling that she would be clinging to him like a second skin for a while. He sighed quietly and leaned into her, being perfectly fine with that. Artemis had long ago become his world. His memories were hazy between the time he supposedly died and when he woke up . . . Was that only an hour ago?

"Um . . . I know this sounds weird," he began, "but how long have I been gone?"

"Too long," Kaldur told him.

Artemis answered his question. "Three years, Wally. You've been gone for three whole years."

It was saying something that her voice cracked in the middle of that. Wally frowned trying to wrap his mind around those missing years.

"Three." Wally obviously hadn't been dead or he wouldn't be here right now. _So, where have I been_?

"Hey, guys," Conner called to them from the docking bay. "Roy, M'gann, and I are heading towards the med bay. You coming?"

Artemis gave him a tug and he was surprised to discover he needed her support. That brief run with Dick had exhausted him. His adrenaline had been keeping him going since then, but now that Dick was in capable hands, Wally had no energy left. She glanced up at him with concern.

"Did they feed you?" she asked him. "While he had you, did Savage bother to feed you at all?"

Wally blinked. Maybe that was the problem. He shook his head. "Not that I can remember. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time remembering anything before Dick woke me up."

"Kaldur, you go ahead without us," Artemis told him. "We're going to swing by the cafeteria on our way there."

"Do you need help?" the Atlantian asked.

"Wally will be fine once he gets some calories back into him," she assured him.

Wally looked upset by this, however. "Dick . . ."

"They are taking care of him right now," she reminded him. "You won't do him any good if you collapse on the way there. And you'll need to be checked out as well. We know nothing of where you've been or what Savage had to do to bring you back. That you are walking and talking right now is nothing short of miraculous."

Tears slipped from beneath her tiger mask to drip from her chin. Wally lifted it up so that he could see her face. There they were - those beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes.

"I missed you, too, babe," he whispered to her.

"I will see you both in the med bay, then," Kaldur slipped out of the ship next, giving them their privacy.

Neither noticed his leaving. Wally dipped his head and kissed her and everything that had been wrong with the world shifted back onto its axis for him. Oh, there were still troubles, Dick for instance, but as long as he had Artemis with him, he'd get through it. He wasn't going to take his life for granted any longer. He had another chance to do this right and he knew exactly what he wanted this time around.

"Now, _this_ is heaven," he murmured into her hair after they came up for air.

She laughed at him. "No. This is the hangar deck on the Watchtower. Come on, Kid Stomach. Let's get you fed."

As Wally followed her off the Bioship, a thought crossed his mind. "Does this mean that you're older than me, now?"

"Oh ho, you don't want to go there, Mister," she chided him teasingly.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked with a grin. "I am dating an older woman. You can be my sugar mama!"

"Oh, God, Wally, stop!" Artemis begged, laughing. "Just wait until . . ." she gasped. "Your parents, Wally! And Barry and Iris! We need to tell them we found you and you're alive."

"We do but just as soon as I eat something," Wally said. His stomach gurgled loudly. "That is, if you want me to last long enough to see everyone again."

It took twice as long to navigate the hallways to the cafeteria than normal for Artemis and it felt like an eternity for Wally who was used to getting everywhere in a matter of seconds. It couldn't all be attributed to Wally's depletion of energy, however. A good portion could be blamed on people and League members welcoming him back to the land of the living.

Wally blinked at the number of new members, some of the heroes he had never even heard of before, while others, he had never had the opportunity to meet or work with before. But, the one hero he had hoped to see had yet to put in an appearance. The Flash, Hawkgirl had told him, was busy reigning in the Rogues in Central City but assured him that a message had been sent.

The cafeteria was exactly the same as Wally remembered it when he and Dick had hung out waiting for League meetings to be over. That was back in the day, though, before they had been given Mount Justice for their new team. He heard numerous calls to him from those heroes present, surprise and joy in great supply, but he was at a stage now that food was the only call that mattered. He knew that Artemis would field questions for him as he gravitated toward the serving line. People in front of him back out of his way as Wally did the unforgivable and began grabbing food directly from the items displayed and eating it where he stood. As he did so, his strength and speed returned . . .

"Wally, hey! Leave some for other people," Artemis' voice cut through the static that was playing through his head, bringing him back to himself.

He glanced down the aisle and winced. Empty plates were scattered in his wake. Now that his belly wasn't completely empty, he had sense enough to feel embarrassed. He looked at the people around him, chagrined.

"Um, sorry, guys," he said. "My last meal was three years ago."

Laughter answered him.

"No worries, mini-Flash," a tall, blond man told him. He wore blue and gold and wore a visor instead of a mask.

"That would be Kid Flash," Wally corrected automatically. "I'm sorry; I don't think we've met. You are . . .?"

"Booster Gold," was the reply. "And you wouldn't have. You disappeared before I made my appearance but I've heard plenty about you. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Another unknown hero stepped up beside Booster Gold. "I'd bet you've got a really fine tale to tell, though, don't you?" asked a Lone Ranger type.

Wally shrugged. "Not really. I don't remember much until I was rescued just a couple of hours ago."

"Well now, maybe it will come back to you after a bit," the cowboy smiled at him. "I'm the Vigilante, by the way."

"Aren't we all?" Wally told him. The Vigilante's attitude was chipper and kind of reminded him of Nightwing but with an accent.

With that thought, worry for his friend reasserted itself and returned to its priority spot. Wally knew he shouldn't be lingering when Dick was fighting for his life. The question remained, should Dr. Midnite manage to save his life, what sort of life would it be after this? He turned to Artemis to suggest they head to the medical bay when a gust of wind blew through the cafeteria.

"Wally?!" Flash gaped from just inside the entrance.

"Uncle Barry!" Wally grinned at the stunned expression on Flash's face.

"Wally! Oh, God," Barry was suddenly right there, picking his nephew up and hugging him for all he was worth. "I thought . . . We thought . . . I didn't believe it when the news came through the comm," Flash stammered too quick for anyone other than his nephew could follow. "I came as soon as I heard."

Wally was laughing. "I'm really here. I'm not going anywhere, I promise. You can set me down now, Uncle Barry."

"My God! Look at you! You haven't aged at all!" Barry couldn't believe his eyes. He set his nephew back on his feet but continued to hold onto Wally's shoulders. "Are you okay? Are you injured? Where have you been?"

"I'm fine. I was feeling a little peckish, but I grabbed a snack to tide me over," Wally smiled and held Flash by his arms as well. "As for where I've been for the last three years, I'm not sure, but I think I was caught up in the Speed Force. To me, it feels like I saw you only yesterday."

"How did it happen? When did you get back?" There were too many questions Barry wanted to ask him.

"I don't know when exactly," Wally told him, "but, as for how . . ." He glanced over at Artemis. She stepped up and slid her hand in his, giving him her strength. "The team rescued me. Artemis and the others, but . . . Nightwing was hurt in the process," he blurted. His throat felt tight with emotion.

Barry blinked, serious again. "What? Who's with him now?"

"Dr. Midnite and J'onn have him in surgery right now," Artemis inserted, saving Wally from having to speak.

"He's in good hands, then," Barry nodded. "They'll take care him."

Stricken, Wally shook his head. He lowered his voice because, as far as he knew, Batman wasn't here yet. It didn't seem right to alert the entire Watchtower before Bruce had a chance to see his son.

"Not _this_ time . . . He's not going to be okay this time," Wally admitted brokenly. "If they are able to save him," he swallowed thickly, "nothing will ever be the same for him again."

Barry frowned.

"We were just going to the medical bay now," Artemis told him. "We only came here because Wally's been too long without food. But now, we need to get back, in case . . ." She trailed off.

"Right," Barry nodded, turning with them. "Let's go up and see if they know anything yet. Take heart, though," he encouraged the couple, "if anyone can help him, it will be Midnite."

Artemis and Barry walked on either side of him, casting worried looks at him every few steps. He supposed he should reassure them he would be okay, but Wally didn't know that for a fact. His best friend's life was on the line and all Wally could feel was a kind of numbness. He figured it was a type of shock, his body trying to protect him from the stresses that came with all the worry and guilt. No matter what anyone said, Wally was here because of Dick, and Dick was likely to lose his ability to walk because of Wally.

His mind rolled over the last things he remembered from before . . . His anger with his friend. He had been angry with Artemis as well because she had chosen to work undercover for Nightwing and endanger herself all over again, but with her gone, his anger had bled over onto Dick for that as well. In fact, everything that had been wrong about his life, Wally had piled onto Nightwing's shoulders. Dick's emotions had slowly been withdrawing as it was, what with the stress of leading the team, running various missions, worrying over two friends and colleagues who were deep undercover with no backup should they be discovered, watching over both Gotham and Bludhaven, mentoring Tim, and worry over the fate of his mentor and father, Batman. Blinded by his own emotions, Wally had mistaken Dick's lack thereof for his friend's conversion into the stoicism of Batman.

The last words he had said to Dick had been those of blame and anger, but Dick had _done_ it. He had saved the earth, routed the invaders, and crippled the Light. It was through his efforts that they had managed to obtain the proof needed to clear the six Leaguers who were facing charges a half a galaxy away. Not one of them had died . . .

Oh . . . wait. That wasn't exactly the truth, even though it wasn't exactly a lie either. Everyone had believed that Wally had died. But when Dick had learned that Wally was alive, Dick had even planned and implemented his rescue. The only one suffering now was the one who had saved them all.

It didn't seem fair . . .

Artemis brought him back to the present by squeezing his hand. Barry was looking at him in concern.

"Are you going to be okay?" Barry asked him.

"Me?" Wally blinked. "I'm wonderful, Uncle Barry! Fantastic! Good as new, even," he grumbled bitterly. "Don't worry about me. I have a new lease on life, paid for in full by my best friend."

Artemis squeezed his hand, glancing at him worriedly despite Wally's angry assurances. He squeezed back, but the guilt he felt wasn't going to go away anytime soon, if at all.

The rest of the team was gathered in the waiting room and in groups out in the hallway that led to the surgery unit, talking quietly with the newer members who had arrived from home or from various missions. The shock and tears meant that they had only just found out what had happened. Heads turned at the sound of Wally's voice followed by looks of gratefulness and disbelief, but all of them filled with happiness at his return.

He was immediately swamped by familiar faces and friends. Those who had joined after his disappearance hung back but smiled in his direction uncertainly, caught up in the joy of their teammates but unable to shake free of the fear for one of their own for someone who they had only heard stories of. He smiled and nodded, shook hands, exchanged backslaps and hugs, but Wally felt like he was standing on the outside looking in. None of it felt real to him, except that self-same fear he saw in the younger members' faces.

Oh, he was thankful to be alive and back in the bosom of Artemis and his friends and family. Wally was picking up his life right where it left off, but the cost . . . The cost was too high.

* * *

 **Who got hit right rights in the feels! Come on hands up!**

 **Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	8. The Final Bow

**ANNNNNNNND We're back! I know this is super late and that falls on me...Adulting is no fun and totally gets in the way! Anywho the ride is about to begin so please remember to fasten your seatbelts and keep all hands and legs in the ride at all times!**

* * *

Tim finished attaching his cape and set his mask on the edge of the Batcomputer as Bruce listened to the police scanner chatter, determining were the bulk of the crime seemed to be happening in the city. They could cut time if they headed right to the trouble spots were from the start.

"Nothing coming out of Arkham?" Tim asked casually.

He had checked an hour ago, but one couldn't be too careful with the asylum's inmates. Personally, he thought Bruce's money would be better spent redesigning and updating the cells and security in the hapless facility. Truthfully, they had done just that only a year ago for the most dangerous criminals housed there. For the longest period of time on record, Arkham had remained quiet until, that is, just a couple of months ago, when Joker finally succeeded in outwitting the security measures and escaped. The designs were good, however. The escape, they had learned, had been due to human error.

The Riddler had managed his own release three weeks ago as well by bribing one of the new guards that had been hired. Luckily, everyone else had failed where Joker and Riddler had succeeded. Unfortunately, those two escapes had given the rest of the inmates new hope that eventually, they too, would find a way to slip through the automated system and past guards to make good their own bid for freedom.

"All's quiet on that front, thankfully," Bruce murmured as he scooted back. He tugged the cowl over his head, adjusting the mask over his face for a comfortable fit. "We'll start downtown and then head for the wharf around Midnite. Rumors have it that a large shipment is coming in from Central America."

Tim applied his own mask. "Did they say from where?"

"Columbia." Batman stood.

"So, could be either drugs or illegal weapons," Robin noted.

"I'm thinking it will be drugs, but don't let your guard down. The men involved have no problem with using their own merchandise to ensure the shipment gets through," he warned.

"Not a prob . . ." Robin trailed off as the computer announced a message coming in from the watchtower. "The League expecting trouble?"

It was not Batman's turn for watch duty and as far as Robin had heard, there were no meetings scheduled either for the League or for the Young Justice team. Curious, he hovered nearby as Batman answered it. Mr. Terrific appeared on the screen.

"Terrific, this had better be an emergency. I have an important shipment to thwart tonight," Batman led off impatiently.

"You're needed aboard the Watchtower." Mr. Terrific didn't beat around. He knew the best way to deal with Batman was to come straight to the point.

"Unless it's a full-blown alien invasion, it can wait," Batman snapped. "The League has enough members now that you can carry on without my presence."

Robin tilted his head, intrigued when Terrific seemed to hesitate. The man was nothing if not efficient. It was why Batman felt easy enough to let the other hero direct operations with no interference. There weren't many that had achieved that kind of respect with the Dark Knight.

"There was an incident . . ." Terrific did it again. He was hesitating. Robin took a step closer. "The Young Justice team went on an unauthorized mission. They've returned successful in their endeavor, but . . ."

 _My team_? Why hadn't Robin heard anything about this?

Batman's eyes narrowed. "But what?"

"You are needed aboard the Watchtower. Now," Terrific added unnecessarily. Now could be inferred from his tone.

Robin's comm chirped in his ear, alerting him to a communication on the team's private channel. He tapped the tiny comm-link, switching channels effortlessly from years of practice.

"Robin," Tim announced. "What's up? Is this about that secret mission no one felt the need to tell me about?" he asked sarcastically. He hated secrets being kept from him. It hurt that anyone felt they couldn't trust him with the information.

"Robin," Aqualad's voice came through so clearly, he might have been standing at Tim's shoulder. "You are needed on the Watchtower as soon as possible, my friend. It is important that you do not delay."

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Batman who had just ended his own communication. Whatever this was, it concerned them both. An uneasy knot twisted itself into existence in his belly.

"Right. I'll be right there." Robin answered.

"And Robin?" Kaldur's voice stopped him from cutting communications. "Bring Batman with you."

The knot tightened and doubled in size.

"Sure. I don't think that will be a problem," he murmured as Batman headed in the direction of the Batcave's zeta-tube instead of to the Batmobile. He cut the line and rushed to catch up with his mentor. "Batman! Hold up! I'm coming, too."

Batman looked back at him. "I want you to stay and contact Commissioner Gordon. The two of you can still meet the shipment . . ."

"Aqualad just requested my presence on the Watchtower, too. Whatever's going on requires both our presence." Robin said as he moved forward with purpose.

Bruce wasn't going to stop him from accompanying him. Ever since Dick left the team, Tim had taken on a greater and greater role until he was Aqualad's second-in-command. In fact, the Atlantian had been talking about stepping down himself and turning the team over to Robin completely. He was getting too old for the team, Kaldur had said. Young Justice had been created for young sidekicks to learn how to work together and on their own without the constant supervision of their mentors, to prepare them for their eventual induction into the League. It was time for leadership to pass to the one best ready to step into Kaldur's place. With Batman's training behind him and Tim's own head for strategy, he was the most logical choice.

Surprisingly, Batman didn't try to stop him.

"Fine. I'll contact Gordon with the details as soon as we arrive at the Watchtower. He should have plenty of time to arrange for a detail of his men to reach the area before the ship is scheduled to arrive." Batman told him.

It was Tim turn to hesitate. "Do you think Gordon's men can handle it on their own? We could always request for backup. The League or my team should have one or two members free to assist . . ."

"No. I can call in Nightwing if Gordon needs help." Batman interrupted as he tapped in the codes for the Watchtower.

The alien device hummed as it powered up and the two stepped into the light as the Batcave faded from view. A moment later, the cave was silent but for the screeching of the startled bats overhead.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

A grim-faced Superman was standing in front of the zeta-tube when the two arrived. The knot in the pit of Tim's stomach turned to ice as Batman imperceptively stiffened beside him. What could have happened that the League felt it was necessary to send Superman as an envoy? As he moved to slip past them to find his own team, Superman placed a hand on Robin's shoulder.

"Walk with us, Tim," Superman murmured. "You're both going to the same location."

Tim blinked behind his mask. Superman called him Tim? The only thing worse than that would be if he called Batman Bruce. Bad things usually have to happen for people to call you by your given name while in costume.

Batman's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you start talking?"

"Bruce, I think you should hear this from Kaldur," Clark said before he led the way out into the Watchtower proper. He turned away from the direction that led to the conference rooms. This way led to the lifts that took you to the brig, the cafeteria, and the . . . medical bay.

"I'm not in charge of the team anymore," Batman reminded him. "The elder members are advanced enough that they handle assigning their own missions now. There are any number of League members that are capable of debriefing them."

That was true, Robin thought. Batman's connection to the team had lessened over the years since Nightwing's resignation as team leader, nearly ending altogether when Barbara decided to pursue her Ph.D. in computer science full time. Oh, Batman still acted as mentor and provided some degree of training, but Tim suspected it was only because there was still a Robin attached to the team. In the last two years, Batman only took report when the YJ team's missions were directly linked to League business that he had a personal investment in.

"This concerns you," Clark said as they took the lift. He punched the button for level 29, the med bay. He glanced at Tim. "The both of you."

Tim swallowed, retreating into his Robin guise even more. He glanced up at Batman beside him and watched Bruce do the same thing. If anyone thought that Batman's persona was forbidding before, he was downright glacial now, more like a robot than a man. Tim realized that the man was struggling with a chunk of ice in his own gut right now as well.

The doors opened, and Superman led the way down the hall toward the medical bay. They passed the main doors that led to patients' care, a larger, communal room that held a number of beds, and a few private rooms for those unfortunates whose condition were so serious that it required constant monitoring. Tim knew that a couple of Leaguers had even died in the private rooms. Tim frowned as they were being led to the waiting room outside of the surgical unit.

He couldn't imagine what the problem could be. With Nightwing in Bludhaven and Babs away at the university, the only thing that the Young Justice team held in common for the two of them was Robin himself. But Tim was right here . . . So, who else could it be?

They turned the corner and his mouth dropped open. The waiting room was full, with people spilling out into the hallway. _Everyone_ was here - literally the entire team, old and new, as well as several League members. Even Tigress was here sans her mask, sitting with the Flashes! He was surprised since she hadn't chosen to be an active member since Wally's death three years ago, only coming in to help on request, but then Tim's eyes focused on the figures beside her. One was Barry but . . .

Two Kid Flashes? What? But no, it wasn't Bart. Bart was vibrating in place next to this redheaded version. Who? Tim gasped before he could check himself.

" _Wally_?!" Robin gaped. "Y-You're alive?"

Wally stood, facing them with an unreadable expression. "Yeah, I'm back," he smiled uncertainly, looking terribly uncomfortable. Artemis reached for his hand, squeezing it in support, Tim observed.

"Oh, my God! How?" Tim glanced around the room and knew there was someone missing. Someone who should be here despite having left the team. "Does Nightwing know yet? Did someone think to tell him?"

Hard to believe that he and Batman would arrive before Nightwing. Dick had been devastated by the loss of his best friend. He should have been the first to learn that Wally was alive.

Wally glanced briefly at Batman and then looked away abruptly. "Superman didn't explain anything to you?"

Aqualad straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall. "I asked him not to," he announced. "It is for _my_ place to give the report from our rescue mission."

"This is a debriefing? Here? Who was hurt?" Robin glanced around the room again but couldn't locate the missing member. The entire team was present and accounted for.

Kaldur stopped in front of them. "Let us do this over here," he said, gesturing to the privacy of the hall they had just come from.

"Here will be fine," Batman growled. He was getting impatient and angry at all the secrecy and drama. Although he probably didn't sound any different to the others, Tim heard the worry hidden behind the obvious, as did Superman.

The Man of Steel stepped away but didn't leave the area. He made his way over to Wally and shook the young man's hand warmly, laying his other hand on the speedster's shoulder. Tim turned to the Atlantian he had come to respect since working with him so closely. Kaldur sighed and the knot of fear returned.

"Very well." He looked down at the floor between them as if gathering his strength for whatever he was about to say and then back up. His jaw and shoulders were tight with stress.

"Red Hood contacted Nightwing with information about the return of Wally West. Apparently, Vandal Savage had discovered the speedster was being held in the speed force." Kaldur paused. "Do you know about Red . . .?"

"I do," Batman grunted, cutting him off.

The Dark Knight's posture had become even more rigid upon the mention of his first two previous partners, neither of which were present, Tim noted worriedly. The last time Jason had come around, people ended up bleeding.

"This mission was obviously to retrieve the original Kid Flash," Batman snapped impatiently. He glanced around the waiting room and hallway again, looking for Nightwing. Tim knew it because he was doing the same thing. "If Nightwing knew about this, he would have insisted on accompanying you. Where is he?"

Dread was building up as he watched Kaldur flinch slightly. Artemis stood up, but Kaldur waved her back.

"This is my responsibility," he told her. Artemis looked like she wanted to argue, but Kaldur turned back to them. "The plan was for . . ."

Batman's voice lowered dangerously. "I don't care about the plan. Answer my question."

Kaldur continued, dangerously choosing to ignore the request in favor of his narrative, but reduced the details to the bare minimum. "During the course of the rescue, Vandal Savage stabbed Nightwing in the back before blowing up his compound. Luckily, Kid Flash had recovered enough by that time, and carried Nightwing out of the castle before the explosions went off. Unfortunately, in the process of saving his life, Kid Flash was forced to move him in spite of the seriousness of his injury. Nightwing is in surgery now, but, I fear, his condition remains critical." Kaldur looked away, unable to meet their eyes. "I am sorry."

To anyone else, Batman took the news without reaction; whatever emotions he might have had appeared to be nonexistent. But, for Tim, it was clear that the man was barely in control. Bruce was struggling to shove everything down deep inside. However he might appear, in reality, Batman was raging. Tim's eyes dropped to Batman's hands. The left one opened and closed into a tight fist, the leather of his gloves creaking in response. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Whatever response people were expecting of the Dark Knight, that hadn't been it. Lagoon Boy straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall, angrily, pointing a hand in the direction that Batman had disappeared.

"What? That's it?" he asked, furiously. "He just walks away like it's nothing?"

M'gann looked up from where she had been sitting beside Conner. "La'gaan, wait! You don't understand . . ."

"What's to understand? That he doesn't care?" La'gaan growled. "He's made that all too clear. By Neptune's beard, he's going to get a piece of my mind."

He stormed past Kaldur, jerking his arm free when the older Atlantian attempted to hold him back. Turning the corner, he quickly caught up to the retreating Bat. Forgetting himself, La'gaan grabbed Batman's shoulder and spun him around.

"You piece of flotsam! Have you no heart . . .?" was all La'gaan managed to get out before a gloved hand closed around his throat and slammed him against the bulkhead hard enough to dent it.

Stunned, La'gaan gaped at the enraged hero even as he struggled to free himself. Out of the sea, the pressure on his throat was more than enough to prevent the Atlantian from breathing. His eyes bulged in shock and fear when he could see no mercy in Batman's expression. Although the Atlantian knew he was the stronger of the two but, currently, La'gaan realized he was within moments of blacking out.

Robin was immediately there, grabbing Batman's forearm and pulling with all his might to free the foolish hero. Even after several years on the team, the Atlantian tended to speak and act too impulsively for his own good. It was a dangerous attribute that had just caught up with him.

"Batman, stop! He doesn't understand," Robin said through clenched teeth. He grunted with effort. "He doesn't know!"

La'gaan began to worry that Batman might indeed throttle him to death. He was going to have to fight back if he wanted to live. The idea of taking on the Bat in an all-out fight was intimidating as rumors of the human's prowess whispered insidiously through his oxygen-starved brain.

"Nightwing would never forgive you," Robin blurted out.

If anything, the fingers seemed to squeeze tighter for a second, and then, as quickly as the attack happened, it was over. Batman released the younger hero in disgust, but whether that emotion glimpsed was aimed at Lagoon Boy or at himself, La'gaan couldn't be sure. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. His eyes looked up the hallway, afraid that someone might have witnessed his appalling error in judgment. The corridor was empty, but La'gaan's relief was fleeting. This blunder was epic and wouldn't be soon forgotten.

Batman stepped past him, entering one of the private observation rooms without apology. As the door hissed shut behind him. Robin kneeled beside his teammate.

"I realize you were upset about Nightwing and it was the reason for your anger," Robin said, not unkindly, "but, you need to understand, Batman isn't uncaring. He just doesn't show it in public. If he leaves the room, it is only because his control is slipping. He needs the privacy."

La'gaan nodded, wincing slight at the pain the movement caused.

"I assume that Dr. Midnite is with Nightwing now?" Robin asked, waiting for the Atlantian's confirmation. "If he comes out before Batman returns, we'll be in here," he said, indicating the room into which Batman disappeared. "It would be better if you send Midnite in to us. Do it right away. Understand?"

La'gaan nodded again and croaked. "He's stronger than I thought he would be. Faster, too. Are you sure he's only human?"

"He's human all right," Robin smirked. "Just try not to get him angry."

The Atlantian blinked in surprise. "That wasn't angry?" he whispered hoarsely.

Robin shook his head. "Not really. He's mostly just worried about Nightwing. Don't take it personally."

La'gaan gaped, disbelieving, as Robin patted his shoulder and rose, entering the room after the madman. His adrenaline slowing, Lagoon boy was now more embarrassed than anything. He had miscalculated when judging the Caped Crusader. Swallowing painfully, he reminded himself, when dealing with Batman, to do so from across the room.

Slowly, he climbed to his feet, rubbing his throat gingerly. Luckily, his coloring should hide any bruising, although Kaldur and M'gann might still notice. He considered leaving until he remembered the order that Robin had given him concerning Dr. Midnite's appearance. He would have to go back if only to relay the message to someone else.

He entered the area much more subdued than he had leaving it just minutes ago, but none of the older members looked at him oddly. The only glances he got were from Beast Boy, Wonder Girl, and Blue Beetle.

 _La'gaan_? M'gann voice spoke into his mind. He should have expected that. _Are you alright_?

 _Yeah, just swell . . . Don't worry. He didn't kill me_.

He glanced up to see her looking back at him.

 _Batman's a very private person. Just because he doesn't show his emotions publicly, doesn't mean he doesn't have them_ , she thought at him.

He snorted lightly, ignoring Blue Beetle's curious gaze. _Now you tell me_.

 _I'm sorry. You just rushed out of here so quickly and you shut me out of you mind when you did_.

 _I'm an idiot_.

She smirked. _Yes. You are_ . . .

He looked startled.

 _But, luckily, I don't think it is a permanent condition_ , she assured him before he could get angry.

He sighed, settling in for a long wait when Kaldur sat down beside him. The older Atlantian slipped something into his hand. Curious, La'gaan looked at the packet of pills that sat in his palm.

"For the pain," Kaldur explained in a whisper. "Don't worry. I do not think anyone else has noticed."

"Did you see?" La'gaan asked worriedly.

"No, but I did not have to in order to know what happened." Kaldur murmured without looking at him. "I have known Nightwing and Batman for many years. This is not the first time that Nightwing has been seriously injured . . . although, I believe it is the first time it has been this dire."

"You could have said something . . ."

"I tried to," Kaldur reminded him. "But sometimes the best way to learn something is to experience it for yourself."

La'gaan grunted as he tossed the painkillers into his mouth. He grimaced in discomfort as they went down, resisting the urge to rub his neck again. He only hoped that he would begin to feel their effect soon. Closing his eyes, La'gaan passed the time by imagining the million other ways he might have handled that encounter than didn't end with Kaldur having to slip him painkillers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was hours before Dr. Midnite stepped through the doors into the waiting area.

"Nightwing is in recovery. His condition is stable," he announced. The response was immediate as the tension that gripped the room finally eased somewhat. "Where is Batman? Someone should have contacted him by now."

"I'm here, Doctor," Batman stepped forward from where he had been standing alongside the wall.

Midnite was blind in the light. A brilliant surgeon who, through an accident lost his vision in the presence of any kind of illumination, could only see now in total darkness. Anyone assisting him had to wear night goggles to be able to function during the surgery.

"Let's walk," Midnite suggested, and he heard the hiss of a leather cape as Batman turned back in the direction of the observation room he had used earlier for privacy. They were lucky that privacy was seldom needed, considering their line of work, but he was grateful for the foresight the builders had when designing the Watchtower.

Robin took Midnite's arm and followed, determined to not be left out. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" he asked.

Midnite patted the boy's hand. "Of course not, Robin."

It wasn't hard to hear the worry in the boy's voice. If it were good news, there would be no reason for privacy. The doctor would have just announced it to everyone, just as he had a minute before. The door had barely closed behind them, when Batman demanded answers.

"The knife? What kind of damage are we talking about here?"

"Do you want to sit down first?" the doctor asked.

Robin swallowed. "Do we _need_ to sit down?"

"Whatever Nightwing needs to make a full recovery, he's got it," Batman growled. "You name it. Anything."

The generous expanse of that offer wasn't lost to him. Batman had made similar offers on more than one occasion for others. The intensity he heard in the hero's voice told the doctor that there wouldn't be any monetary amount too high. He had long suspected that Batman alter-ego was an extremely wealthy man, before he had learned the hero's true identity, just as he had always known that the relationship between the Dark Knight and his partners extended far beyond that of mentor and student, to that of family.

Midnite sighed. "It's not going to be so easy this time around, I'm afraid. The knife Vandal Savage used on Nightwing struck the spinal column."

He heard Robin slide into one of the upholstered chairs.

"Were you able to repair the damage?" Batman asked after a long pause.

His voice was different, Midnite noted. Not as deep as before, the gravelly sound that made it so distinctive had disappeared. This, Midnite realized, was the Dark Knight's real voice. The direction it came from told the doctor that he, unlike Robin, had chosen to remain standing. He judged the other man to be roughly eight feet in front of him and slightly to his right. The doctor adjusted his position so that he could face Batman directly.

"The blade struck the T11 vertebra, breaking portions of the vertebra and piercing the spine. I understand that there were several bombs and that Kid Flash had been forced to carry him to safety, that a shockwave had thrown Nightwing out of his arms . . . As a result of this extraneous movement and the violence of the tumble he took, several other nearby vertebrae were also damaged."

Midnite paused as he listened to the shift in breathing. Robin's hitched in a way that was distinctive. The boy understood what Midnite was telling them and was having the expected reaction. Batman, however, had stopped breathing altogether upon hearing the news.

"So," Batman cleared his throat, "rehabilitation will be lengthy."

 _Denial_ . . . Midnite pursed his lips. It was not the reaction one might expect from Batman who normally preferred the cold, hard facts in any situation, but it _was_ the reaction he would expect from a father.

"Didn't you hear him?" Robin snapped, his voice rising in pitch with his emotions. He had leapt from his seat in anger and shock. Midnite laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. Robin was shaking beneath his fingers, a fine trembling that grew in intensity.

"Easy," the doctor murmured just loud enough for the boy to hear.

"I can make a request to Star Labs," Batman continued. "Perhaps there is some technology available that can help him. Something you aren't aware of yet."

Midnite decided a repeat of his diagnosis was necessary. He switched to a more personal tone. "The blade severed the cord, Bruce, and the damage he received from being moved and tossed around was substantial throughout the surrounding areas. A certain amount of rehabilitation will be necessary for Dick to adjust to his new situation as will extensive counseling."

"Are you not even going to _try_?" Batman barked, anger creeping into his voice. "If you aren't able to help him, there might be someone else who can!"

"I know this is difficult for you to accept," the doctor spoke calmly, "but your son will have to, and it will be easier for him to do so if you do not fight what you know is the truth."

" _Fight_ is what we do. You do not become exceptional by accepting the limitations that one doctor tells you. You get a second opinion and a third, if necessary!" Batman snapped.

"And a fourth? They will all tell you the same thing that I am trying to explain to you. Do you propose to drag him all over the world just to hear the same words over and over again? That is _cruel_ , even for you." Midnite ground out harshly.

"You don't _understand,_ " Batman said through a clenched jaw, "Nightwing won't be able to accept this. He . . . can't be . . ." but words failed him here.

"Paralyzed. The word is paralyzed," Midnite stated, although not unkindly. "I'm very sorry, but there is nothing more that I, or anyone at this point, can do for him. Whether either of you accept it or not, Nightwing's career is over. Dick Grayson will never walk again."

* * *

 **SOOOOOOOOOOO I'm just gonna leave... I'll pop up again next month! Sorry not Sorry!**

 **Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	9. Damaged

**_And we're back! Hope everyone is having a great holiday season. And as a little present from us here's some batfamily angst!_**

* * *

 _Paralyzed_.

The word echoed through Bruce's skull as he stared down at the body of his eldest son. His eyes drifted against his will down to the motionless shape of now-useless limbs hidden by the crisp, white sheet. He jerked his gaze back to the young man's face. Abrasions covered one side of it, from forehead to his jawline, from where he had obviously skidded along the ground. It hurt to see his once-active boy in traction, like he was a bug being displayed, but they couldn't risk more movement until he had healed from the surgery.

Normally, Dick would be wearing his mask to protect his identity but the head injury he received when he was flung from Wally arms necessitated that they be able to check his pupils on a regular basis. Visitors were banned for the time being, however, until Dick was awake and they could see how he took the news.

The mask lay on the bedside table just in case he needed to don it again, but . . . according to Midnite, that was never going to happen again. Bruce remembered how hard Dick took it when he had taken Robin away from him. He had been wrong to do that, but the boy had risen up just as he always had done when life threw him a curveball. Unwilling to accept Batman's decree, Dick had gone out and created himself a new identity, one that had quickly gained a reputation that was even more impressive and respected than the one he had enjoyed as Robin. It was what every father dreamed of for his child, that his son would one day exceed him, and Dick had . . . in every way. His son had become every bit as formidable as Batman but had developed friendships and trust amongst the superhero community that Batman would never manage for himself.

The proof of this lay in the numbers that still crowded the waiting room just beyond the door. No one had left despite the fact that Dick wasn't allowed visitors. They stayed as if their proximity could somehow pass along their strength to their fallen comrade. Who knows? Maybe it could. Right now, Bruce would take all the help he could get because he didn't know how the hell he would get through the next hour let alone the task of explaining Dick's condition to him. The doctor would be here for that, giving Dick the bad news and answering any technical questions the young man might have. He doubted that Dick would accept Midnite's decree any more than Bruce wanted to.

While Batman's presence was unnecessary for what came next, the news was better coming from Midnite, he knew that Bruce's presence was essential to his son's wellbeing. He hadn't always known this, unfortunately, but Bruce liked to imagine that he could be taught, could learn how to be a father when the chips were down. Alfred had often despaired of him with good reason, but Bruce _knew_ that Dick would need someone with him for this one. Tim would have probably been a better choice, or Wally, now that the speedster was back . . . even Roy would be an improvement. But, for this, no one need tell Bruce where his responsibility lay.

Savage was still out there. The bastard's days of freedom were numbered, however. Even now, the Justice League were combing the planet for him. The moment Dick was stable and no longer needed Bruce standing vigilant over him, holding his hand, Batman would be joining the hunt.

His eyes narrowed. The immortal would pray for permanent death before Batman was done with him.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, Bruce shoved back his cowl and removed his gloves. Now that Dick was settled in one of the private rooms in the med bay, he needed to regain some semblance of control. He wouldn't be any help if he were raging about like a bull.

Dick had woken only briefly in recovery before sinking back into oblivion after a few minutes. He had been too groggy to understand much of anything, just answered a few questions about his name, the date, and where he was. He knew the first two, luckily the person asking had been Dinah, but he hadn't recognized the med bay on the Watchtower. Midnite had arrived long enough to declare him mildly concussed, but stable enough to settle in his room.

Bruce brushed the hair from the boy's forehead and noticed movement behind the lids. Dick was beginning to come around again. Worry ate at him. He couldn't imagine a worse situation for his son to be forced to endure, but Bruce could only be thankful that his boy was still here and Bruce was not sitting at a graveside instead of a bedside.

"Coming around yet?"

Batman recognized Midnite's voice without turning around. "Soon," he answered roughly.

"I need to turn the lights off for a moment," the doctor warned him a second before plunging the room into darkness.

The brilliant surgeon was day blind. His unusual condition allowed him perfect vision only in complete darkness. Those assisting him in surgery had to wear specialized night vision goggles. Batman flicked the hidden control on his cowl that brought his own lenses down and allowed him to watch Midnite's progression into the room.

Midnite checked the monitors for Dick's vitals. His voice came from the opposite side of the bed. "I'm going to give him a little something in his IV that will assist in waking him. His concussion appears to be mild, thankfully. Normally, I would have waited until he could be evaluated before rushing him into surgery, but his injuries had left us no choice."

"It was reported that he didn't regain consciousness during the trip here. What else might have caused that?" Batman asked. New details were still trickling in.

"Blood loss. The knife that struck Nightwing was enchanted, I'm told. The very magic that nearly killed him also saved his life, ironically, by remaining in place despite Kid Flash moving him and that last fateful tumble. It prevented him from bleeding out"

"Fateful? Was his being thrown about what paralyzed him then? Not the stabbing itself?" Batman frowned. Wally would be crushed if that were truly the case.

"Certain amount of paralysis from the knife's thrust was to be expected, do not get me wrong. The prognosis didn't change. From the moment the knife entered, Nightwing's career had ended, but there are degrees of paralysis. The fall he took likely ruined any hope of regaining a limited amount of mobility through therapy and braces. Unfortunately, nerve fibers do not regenerate. Until there is a method available that is capable of jumping the gap between Nightwing's spinal cord and his legs, his world will be confined to a chair." Midnite told him.

"Does Wally know?"

"Considering that Dick would be dead had Wally not ran him out of there, I didn't see the point of adding to his sense of responsibility or guilt. I'll leave the decision of enlightening him up to you."

"I don't believe the information would be helpful at this juncture," Batman agreed. The information would only hurt everyone involved should it become known. "Let's keep that to ourselves, then."

Midnite held up a syringe, assuming rightly that Batman could see what he was doing.

"I'm going to help bring him around now," the doctor said, sliding the needle into the IV port. "He's slept long enough." A moment later, he spoke to the computer's AI. "Lights up at seventy-five percent."

xxxxxxxx

Consciousness dragged him from the fog reluctantly. Even the confusion that always accompanied concussions, Dick was familiar enough with this feeling to prepare himself for the pain he knew would follow. Pain . . . He frowned, his eyes not open yet, as he wondered at that. He hurt, yes, but not nearly as much as he would expect. The beeping that he could hear in the background sped up in response to his fear.

 _What happened_? But, that part was still shrouded in darkness. _I must be drugged to the gills_ , he thought a little giddily.

"Call him."

The voice was vaguely familiar, but the identity remained just beyond his reach.

"Dick?"

 _Bruce_ . . . He didn't understand why that voice always brought with it a sense of relief, but he knew that if Bruce was with him, everything was going to be okay. The machine that recorded his heartrate slowed a bit with this knowledge.

"Dick, can you hear me? I need you to wake up now. Come on; open your eyes." Bruce coaxes gently.

The simple movement felt beyond him at the moment, and he struggled to obey. "Nngh," he mumbled. He tried to turn his head and couldn't.

 _What_? Was he so weak or was something restraining him?

"Don't . . . Don't try to move," Bruce warned him. "I need you to open your eyes and look at me, Dick. Can you do that?"

 _Something isn't right_ . . . but what it was he didn't know. Opening his eyes suddenly became extremely important. The beeping sped up again. The fog was lifting more. With supreme effort, his eyelids fluttered, and then he was staring up at the acoustic tiles and florescent lights of a hospital room. His eyes rolled to his right and there he was, Bruce, leaning over him.

"Br . ." he choked on the word, his mouth was too dry, the kind that came from anesthesia. He must have really done a number on himself. He worked up some spit and tried again. "Br-rucce," he slurred. "Wha-happen."

"What do you remember?" Bruce asked him.

Dick frowned, his thoughts jumbled as new information was being processed. Bruce was wearing the Batsuit, but the cowl was removed . . . And, he was definitely being restrained. He struggled to recall the events that led to his current predicament. One word . . . one face.

 _Wally_! Suddenly, images and memories were flashing through his skull at a speed that made his brain pound.

"Wally! Jay . . . Jason found . . . Wally's still alive! Bruce," Dick gasped out. The beeping was becoming alarmingly fast with his panic. "We got to help him!"

"Easy," Bruce placed a gloveless hand on Dick's forehead and leaned closer. "Calm down. Wally's fine. He's alive and safe. You saved him, son. Do you remember saving him?"

He blinked, scowling. "No . . . He's safe? I-I can't . . . What-What happened?" He closed his eyes, but they flew open again a moment later. "Ra's? No, Savage! Vandal Savage is holding him in his compound in . . . in . . . Where? Turkey! He's in Turkey!"

"Savage _had_ him, Dick, but you and your team rescued him. Wally's safe. He's right here on the Watchtower," Bruce told him calmly, reassuringly.

"He's safe." Dick repeated as the words finally penetrated the dissipating fog that surrounded his mind. "The Watchtower? We're . . . on the Watchtower? We-We did it?"

Bruce smiled. "You did it."

The beeping began to slow again. Everything was alright . . . Wasn't it? _If everything's okay, why can I not move_?

"Bruce?" _Keep calm_. _Stay calm_ . . . "What's wrong with me? Why can't I move?"

Something flashed behind Bruce's dark blue eyes, something akin to panic. His father looked over at something . . . No, someone standing to Dick's left. He wanted to look, but couldn't turn his head. Whoever was over there had the answers, though, but Dick was unsure now that he wanted to know what they were.

 _Stick with Bruce_ , he thought. _Bruce is safe_. Despite the fear that had begun churning in his gut, it had been years since Dick had allowed himself to hide in the shadows of Batman's cape. Taking a shaky breath, Dick rolled his eyes over to his left.

xxxxxxxx

Bruce didn't need to hear the heart monitor to know that Dick was struggling. Being reassured that the mission was a success and Wally was safe, he was beginning to turn his focus on himself and realizing that something was seriously wrong. Never had any of his injuries left him in traction. Midnite's mask hid the doctor's face; Dick couldn't get the information from the other man's expressions. He turned huge eyes back in Bruce's direction, searching for comfort – comfort that, for all Bruce wanted to provide it, he couldn't give him.

"What happened to me?" Dick whispered.

He was asking for the truth, but . . . how could Bruce tell him _this_?

Fear – real fear, unlike any Bruce had seen in those blue eyes before, appeared, greater even than the fear that accompanied his parents' deaths. And why not? This was a type of death as well, and even more personal. The idea of his own death had done little to faze the young hero. To give his life in the service of saving others was honorable. The idea of joining his parents in the afterlife had been considered almost as a reward. But, this . . .

This was the death of a dream. He was being abandoned by his own body, left alone in a way he had never truly contemplated before now.

"Bruce?"

"Dick . . . You're alive. You're alive, and that's all that matters now." Bruce stammered. Never had his words deserted him like this. What could he say that would make this all better? He would give his last cent to make this all better.

"Dick," Doctor Midnite reached out and found the young man's hand. "You have a concussion. That is why you don't remember what happened during the rescue mission."

"Okay. That makes sense," Dick agreed a little breathlessly.

"While you were freeing Wally, Savage stabbed you in the back," Midnite told him slowly.

"Is that why I can't feel anything below the waist?" Dick asked. "Did you give me an epidural for the pain since I can't have painkillers with a concussion?"

Midnite smiled. "You're not so concussed that you don't remember that little medical fact. That's good. I need you able to understand what all I'm about to tell you."

Dick swallowed. As Bruce watched, a bead of sweat formed on his brow and ran down into his hairline.

"Lots of bedrest and then a boatload of physical therapy, huh?" Dick muttered. He licked his lips nervously.

"The knife Savage used struck your spine at the T11 vertebr . . ."

"Wait a minute," Bruce interrupted. Dick wasn't ready for this. _Bruce_ wasn't ready for this. "Dick, I want you to remember that this could all be temporary. I'll find the best doctors . . ."

" _Batman_!" Midnite snapped. "I understand this is difficult, so if you need to leave the room while we talk . . ."

"NO!" Dick yelped. His fingers were all he could move at the moment and he waved them helplessly. "Don't go! Please . . . I need . . . I mean, I-I want him here." Dick said quickly. His eyes rolled to Bruce's face. "Please. Don't go."

Bruce stepped closer, brushing against the bed frame as he gripped Dick's fingers and squeezed. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for as long as you need me to be," he promised.

Midnite held his silence for a long moment and then sighed. He obviously hated this part of his job. Bruce didn't envy him this. How had his father managed it? Bruce had his share, but it was as Batman. He had a mask to hide behind. Maybe that was why Midnite chose a cowl when he designed his costume.

"Nightwing," Midnite began. The name reminded Dick who he was and allowed the young man to retreat behind the persona. "When Savage stuck you with the knife, the blade struck your spine around the T11 vertebra. The vertebra itself was damaged in the attack, breaking the spinous process and damaging one of your transverse processes. Do you know what those are?"

Dick blinked, frowning as he thought back on the anatomy basics Bruce had forced him to learn early in his career. "Those are the sticky-outy bits of the vertebrae, right?"

Midnite's lips twitched. "Yes, that's right. There are three of them."

"And Savage wrecked two?"

"That's correct," the doctor murmured with a nod. "That is enough by themselves to warrant you being in traction . . . but, the knife, I have since learned, was . . . enchanted, I guess is the word for it. The vertebra alone was not enough to stop the trajectory of the blade. Unfortunately, it pierced the spinal column."

Dick face twisted into a scowl as he processed that. "Pierced?"

Midnite's lips tightened as he drew in a fortifying breath. ". . . Severed," he clarified.

"Sev- . . ." his eyes snapped back to Bruce's. "Bruce?"

"I'm going to find him, Dick," Bruce swore. "Savage won't get away with this, I promise you."

If anything brought home the seriousness of his condition, it was Bruce's vow to avenge him. The heart monitor's beeping doubled as Dick's heart began pounding.

"What? No! You don't . . . I can't . . ." Dick gasped. His eyes swept back to Midnite. "It not . . . p-please!"

"I promise you, I did everything I possibly could . . ."

"No!" Dick was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Dick, calm down," Bruce told him. He ran one had through his son's hair as much as the mechanic holding the boy's body still would allow. He squeezed Dick's fingers again.

"There must . . . be . . . some mis-mistake." Dick's voice was rising with his panic.

"I'm sorry, son," Midnite told him gently, but firmly.

"You're lying!" Dick yelped. His eyes glistened and he closed them tightly as if to shut out the truth. "If can't be. I- I can't be par-parali . . ." his voice faltered on the word.

"Paralysed . . . from the waist," Midnite confirmed softly.

"No! You're wrong!"

"I wish I was," the doctor told him. "I wish . . . I'm so very sorry."

Tears seeped from the corner of Dick's eyes and dampened the hair at his temples. "No . . . no," he gasped. "B-Bruce? Bruce!"

"I'm here, Dick. I'm right here," Bruce called to him, but Dick was caught up in his grief. So, Bruce touched his boy's face and continued to hold his hand as a way to calm him, wishing the traction bed would allow more physical contact.

The boy's hands clenched as he jerked his wrists in his restraints as if he wanted to pound something. "Bruce," damp blue eyes begged him, "please, tell me . . . It's not true, is it? Please, Bruce. You'll tell me the truth, won't you? You wouldn't lie to me . . . n-not about this!"

"Dick, I-I . . ." But Bruce hesitated. He glanced up at Midnite only to discover that the doctor had left the room at some point. He hadn't even heard him leave. "I'm . . . so – so sorry, son. I'm so sorry."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dick face crumpled as the last of his hope slid away. He couldn't breathe . . . He couldn't move. _GAH_! He wanted to hit something . . . to hurt something . . . to _scream_. And, because he couldn't move, couldn't hit, couldn't even turn his head or pound the bed . . . he screamed - in frustration, in anger, in despair.

He was freaking out, and through it all, Bruce was there. Dick knew he was there . . . but he couldn't see him through the tears, couldn't hear his words past his own screams. He felt him, though, holding his hand, combing his fingers through his bangs, petting his face. Some part of him recognized that Bruce was there, being more supportive, more hands on, more of a parent than he had ever been in his life, but Dick was no longer in a position to care.

This was worse to him than anything – even death.

 _Why_?

Why didn't Wally leave him there to die? He was his best friend . . . He had to know what this would do to him, so –

 _Why_?

xxxxxxxxx

Pieter Cross, Dr. Midnite, hesitated at the door. He never doubted Batman when he said Nightwing would not handle the news well. Who would? The diagnosis would be devastating for anyone, let alone a vibrant young man with astounding acrobatic abilities such as those Dick Grayson had possessed. He would need to wait until the young man had the opportunity to process the news before attempting to discuss the matter further and what his future might be.

As he slipped out of the room silently, a scream of absolute anguish sounded behind him, seeming to follow him out. He had a feeling that it would follow him for the rest of his life.

"Should I prepare something? A sedative, perhaps?" Black Canary's voice came from his right, at the nurses' station, interrupting his thoughts.

"No. His concussion," he reminded her. So soon following a surgery, it was not a good idea. Besides, "Letting it out will hopefully do him some good."

"And what of his visitors?" Dinah asked.

"No other visitors tonight," Cross told her. "It would not help at this juncture. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. We will allow Nightwing decide for himself if he wants any visitors."

Something, or rather someone, shifted to his left. Who else was in here? All visitors were to wait in the hallway to give Nightwing a certain amount of privacy during this initial meeting. But even as he thought this, he remembered.

"Robin?"

Tim stammered in his fright. "He- He's t-taking it badly, isn't he? Will he be alright, do you think?"

Years of practice allowed Cross to walk directly to the boy where he laid a hand unerringly on his shoulder. "It's going to take time . . . and a lot of patience but, yes, he will be . . . Eventually." Robin sighed, leaving Cross with the impression that the young hero didn't believe him. "I'm very sorry," the doctor told him. "I wish there were something more I could do."

What more could he say? This was the part of his profession he hated the most.

"Yeah, I know," Robin answered softly. "I am, too. But, you know, I think that Vandal Savage is going to be the sorriest of us all once Batman gets finished with him."

"Have they found the villain yet?"

He listened as Robin flopped back down in the chair he had been waiting in, preparing for another long vigil. He could tell by the sound of the boy's voice that he had already turned away from him when he answered.

"No. Not yet, but I was told every available League member was out there scouring the planet for him. It's only a matter of time," Robin muttered in anger. The young hero obviously wished he were out there with them rather than waiting here and listening to his brother's pain of loss.

Cross had no doubt the Caped Crusader would face down the one responsible for the injuries of one of his own, and he found himself hoping, despite Savage deserving whatever punishment came his way, that Batman did no serious damage. The truth was simply that the doctor did not want to have to treat the man who had ruined yet another in a countless list of victims over the course of his endless life.

Although the thick walls and door was designed to provide a certain amount of privacy, sounds of Nightwing's grief still managed to escape. It only reinforced Robin's conviction that for all that Vandal Savage was said to be immortal, that the would-be world conqueror would soon enough wish it were otherwise once the Dark Knight confronted him.

* * *

 **SOOOOOOOOOOO I'm just gonna leave... I'll pop up again next month! Sorry not Sorry!**

 **Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	10. I Have Made Mistakes

**Already children buckle those seat belts and grab the tissues it's gonna be a bumpy ride!**

* * *

Red Hood straightened, looking down at his work but, like everything else he had done tonight, it hadn't helped to ease his guilt or his anger.

"Are they still alive?"

The voice came from behind him, and Hood spun to see who had managed to get the drop on him. Only the Bat and . . . and Nightwing have ever been able to do either, and he knew by the voice that this was neither. He grimaced at the relief he felt when he was proven right. It wasn't Batman. Red Arrow dropped down from his perch on the fire escape above him.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Arrow asked, stepping past Hood to check on the downed man. "I have news."

"And, you thought you'd come here to warn me?" he asked the visiting hero.

Arrow frowned, kneeling next to the ground meat Jason had left lying in a pool of his own blood. "Still alive, but jeez, Hood, you could have left the guy his face."

Jason snorted. "I'm done babying these sons of bitches. Batman and Nightwing's been doing that for years and Gotham's still the closest place to hell on earth."

"If the string of bodies you left behind is any indication, I doubt the city's any closer to heaven despite all of the blood you've spilled tonight," Roy stood up, taking the time to call it in, requesting yet another ambulance for yet another of Red Hood's take-downs.

"Did some of them die?" Jay asked, only mildly curious. "They were all still alive when I left them, not that any of them deserved to be."

"They were, but it was close for a couple of them." Roy looked accusingly at the younger man's torn and bloodied gloves. "You didn't even call an ambulance, Jason! You just left them there. If I hadn't come along . . ."

Jason turned his back. "Yeah, well, you _did_ , didn't you?"

"You didn't _know_ I was coming! You sure as hell didn't know I'd stumble onto the trail of victims you left behind," Roy snapped angrily.

Jason turned at that. "Don't you _dare_ call those scum victims," he snarled. "Not one of them is worth the oxygen they breathe. I'm doing the world a favor. How much do you want to bet that none of those bastards will dare commit another crime?"

Roy was unimpressed. "You're right. Kind of hard to rob a convenience store from a wheelchair."

Great. More guilt . . . Jay shoved it down ruthlessly. "Exactly my point."

Roy stared at him for a moment before he seemed to slump. "We need to talk, but not here." Sirens could be heard getting steadily closer. The archer looked up. "Let's go somewhere that won't be swarming with police in a few seconds."

"You're wasting your time. I already know what you're going to say," Jason growled even as he shot off his grapple gun.

He disappeared over the edge of the building's roof a second later. Roy followed as the first police car arrived at the scene below.

xxxxxxxxxxx

They didn't stop until they were near the boardwalk. It was empty this time of night – or morning, as the was case. Roy dropped down beside where Jason had sat, atop a salt water taffy shop. The carnival was dark and quiet another two hundred yards further down the way, and the sky was just beginning to lighten over the Atlantic waters that stretched out in front of them.

"I don't know what you're bitching about," Jason muttered, setting his helmet on the rooftop next to him. "I didn't shoot any of them."

"That wasn't the point," Roy sighed. "Look, enough about them. I know you were taking out your worry and frustration out on them, and who can blame you. The cops and EMTs will take care of them."

"This is Gotham, Roy. The cops don't take care of anything but themselves."

"That's not true," Roy argued. "At least, it's less true that it was before Batman."

"Yeah, hurray for the big, black Bat," Jay snorted.

"Forget it," he said, wanting to change the subject to the reason he came to Gotham to begin with. "I don't want to argue. The only reason I'm here is because someone wasn't picking up the com."

That was a lie. He didn't even try to contact Jay over the com. He knew from Artemis that Jason hadn't been responding to her attempts. The trip was worth it, however, because Jason deserved to hear this in person.

"It's okay. I know . . ." Jay murmured, staring out at the ocean. "H-He's . . . dead, isn't he?"

Roy looked at him, startled. "What?"

"You came to warn me that Batman's out for my head," Jason answered, nodding. He had been expecting it. "You wasted your time, Roy. Batman didn't kill Joker when that sick clown murdered me. I doubt Batman will kill me, even for his golden boy. So, you can fuck off now, knowing you did your good deed for the year."

Roy laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder only for Jason to shrug it off tiredly. "Is _that_ what you thought when I showed up? You're wrong, Jase. Listen . . ."

When Jason spoke again, however, the exhaustion was gone and the anger back. "I _saw_ him, Roy! I saw the blood he lost. There's no way Dickhead could have survived that . . . And, it's _my_ fault . . . because I left him."

"But, he _did_ survive! We got him to help in time. Dick's _alive_ , Jason!"

Jason stared at him for several long moments, the news surprising the cynicism right out of him. Roy watched as various emotions played across his face before settling on relief.

"Midnite saved him, Jason . . . but . . ." and here came the hard part.

Jay frowned. "But? But what? You just said he's alive."

"I didn't lie about that. His condition is stabilized, but the knife . . . "

Comprehension dawned like the sun had in front of them.

"His legs." It was a statement. Jason understood faster than Roy expected. "He lost use of his legs." Jason's expression hardened. He picked up his helmet, shoving it back over his head and standing up. "So, I was right the first time. He _is_ dead."

Roy gaped at the sudden change. " _No_! I told you . . ."

"Shut up," Jason gritted out. "You think Dick can lose his legs and still live? You obviously don't know him as well as you think you do. Okay, you gave your news, Roy; your good deed is done. Now, get the fuck out of Gotham." He ripped his grapple gun from his belt and pointed it back in the direction they had just come.

Roy was on his feet, reaching out but not daring to touch the younger man. Jason seemed even more on edge now than he did when Roy had first shown up. "Jason, stop! You're acting like his life is over."

"It is," Jay insisted. "Dickhead needs to fly like you and I need to breathe. Trust me. He's not going to thank anyone for saving him when it means he'll be grounded forever."

"You're needed on the Watchtower. Dick needs you."

Roy tried to ignore Jason's interpretation of events and what this would mean for his friend. The hardest part of hearing it was that he couldn't argue with it. Roy knew Dick better than Jason realized, but Roy had faith that Dick was stronger than anyone gave him credit for. He just needed his friends to be there for him, his family . . . his brothers, _both_ of them.

"No one needs me, Roy. Nobody wants me there, _especially_ Dick," Jason shot off a cable.

"That's not true. Dick needs you. Please, come see him, just once," Roy pleaded.

"Dick needs me like he needs the plague. If I hadn't left him . . . But, h-he told me to go back. H-He said . . . Damn it! I shouldn't have listened to him. It's my fault that he's . . . that he's paralyzed. Believe me when I tell you, I'm the last person Dick wants to see right now." Jason hit recoil and was gone the next instant.

Roy could have gone after him, but Jason was dealing with a boatload of guilt at the moment. With the sun crawling ever higher in the sky, he trusted that Red Hood's reign of terror was over for the time being. Jay would go home, wherever that was, and hopefully get some sleep. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Roy activated his com.

"He's not coming," Roy muttered to the person on the other end, defeated. "I'm on my way back in now."

Looking back at the ocean, Roy watched the morning sun glinting gold off the water, promising more hope than it could deliver. He turned in the other direction, toward the closest zeta-tube, struggling to forget Jason's prophetic words. He would have retired from this gig a long time ago had he been one to give in to defeat. He, of all people, knew that a person was capable of overcoming all kinds of crap that fate threw in their direction. Certainly, Dick, the eternal optimist, could find the strength to move past this loss, the same as he had all the other losses the kid had been forced to bear throughout the years.

As Roy moved swiftly through the rooftops of Gotham City, he grasped at that tiny piece of hope like it was his own last lifeline. He refused to lose another friend so soon after regaining another.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, wake up, lazy bones."

Wally pried his eyes open and smiled at Artemis. Then, he moved and immediately groaned. Shoving himself up in his chair, he rubbed his neck with one hand.

"You'd think they'd make these chairs more comfortable," Wally grumbled, carefully bending his stiff neck to loosen the stiff muscles. He glanced at the blonde next to him, smiling despite the ache. He'd put up with a lot more than this so long as Artemis was there to greet him every morning. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I slept against your shoulder most of the night," she admitted. She handed him a plate stacked with a dozen breakfast sandwiches and a large coffee. "I brought you a little snack until you can get down to the cafeteria for a decent meal. It's from the bottom of the pot, so it's a little strong," she informed him apologetically as he took a sip from the hot beverage. "They were brewing a new pot, but I didn't want to wait around for it."

"S'okay," he assured her. "I appreciate the gesture."

Eating one of his sandwiches, Wally looked around the waiting room. Not nearly as crowded as it had been last night. Connor and Kaldur where talking quietly across the room while M'gann napped with her head on Connor's thigh. Tim was out cold, stretched across one of the benches. Most of the others had gone home or to their rooms here on the Watchtower after Robin had come out to give everyone the update on Nightwing's condition. One would have thought Dick had died by their reactions . . . It had pissed Wally off. It had pissed Roy off far more, though, as he had laid into them.

 _Dick was alive_! _He was stable_. _They should be celebrating_ , and for a little while Wally had felt that elation. He hadn't killed his best friend after all, but then, reality had set in. Dick was _paralyzed_. How much of that was Wally's fault?

His sandwich turned to ash in his mouth, and it was all he could do not to throw up.

He had dropped him . . . His best friend has saved his life, and Wally had dropped the guy with a fucking knife stuck in his back! He blinked hard, but the tears fell anyway, dripping onto the tiles between his feet as Wally set the plate on the seat next to him. He kept his head bent, his elbows on his knees. He couldn't look at anyone. Artemis gently set the coffee cup aside, putting her arm around his shoulders.

"It's not your fault," she whispered to him. "Savage did this to him."

Wally shook his head as he watched his tears hiton the floor, one of them splattered on his boot.

Savage wouldn't have been able to do anything had he'd just gotten his shit together a few seconds sooner. Wally could have stopped him before he had stabbed his friend. If he had only been a little faster, the explosion wouldn't have caught up with them; Nightwing wouldn't have been thrown from his arms. Wally was too slow, and wasn't that what had gotten him into trouble in the first place?

 _Too slow_ . . . _Too slow_ . . . He watched the next tear slow to a stop, hovering in the air halfway to the floor.

"Wally? Wally!"

Artemis' voice snapped him out of his funk and he glanced up at her, startled. Conner and Kaldur were on their feet as M'gann and Tim were sitting up, rubbing at their eyes, concerned about . . . him? Why _him_? _He_ was fine! Dick was the one . . .

"Wally, stop it!" Artemis snapped at him. "You're vibrating. My arm just fell through your shoulder."

He blinked in confusion, glancing at the others for confirmation.

"She speaks true, my friend," Kaldur told him as Conner nodded.

He had been moving so fast that time had stopped for him. It was the worst kind of irony that his speed arrived when he didn't need it. What good was it going to do for Dick now?

"Wally, we're all upset . . ." M'gann began, but Wally waved her off.

"No. Stop, M'gann. This was all my fault. I should have been able to stop Savage before he could stab Dick," Wally choked. "It took me too long to wrap my head around what was going on behind me. I was too _slow_ ," he ground out.

"You're being unfair to yourself," Artemis argued with him. She understood him, though. She knew how this was tearing him up inside. "I don't know what Savage was doing to you exactly, but we know he was trying to brainwash y- . . ."

"You weren't there!" Wally yelled, slashing his hand in front of him, bringing any forming arguments to a halt. "You weren't there. I should have been able to stop Savage. Then, I moved him when he had a spinal injury . . ."

"You had no choice," Kaldur interrupted him. "There was a bomb."

"Several bombs," M'gann added.

"And, on top of it all," Wally repeated, continuing as if no one had spoken, "I dropped him. I was running, and I _dropped_ him. Dear God! Dick's lucky I didn't kill him," he declared, holding his head in his hands in his distress.

"Dick's alive, thanks to you," Artemis insisted.

"He's _paralyzed_ , thanks to me!" Wally snarled. "He'll hate me for this. You all shouldn't have come after me. My life isn't worth the price Dick paid."

Artemis grabbed his face in her hands, tears streaking her face, too. "Don't say that! We love you, Wally! _I_ love you."

"He would disagree . . ." Tim said softly, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Tim, how could you say that?" Artemis gasped at the boy.

"No, listen to me. Dick blamed himself for your death, Wally," Tim continued. "He blamed himself for everything. Although, he didn't talk to me before going after you, he didn't have to for me to know what he was thinking, feeling, at that moment." Tim ran his hand through his hair as he stood up.

Walking over to Wally, he laid a hand on the speedster's arm. "He would have said your life is worth it. Believe me when I tell you, Dick would have risked anything to bring you back, Wally . . . even paralysis." Tim looked up at the speedster with all sincerity. "Even had he _known_ what it would cost him beforehand, Dick would have gone after you. He wouldn't have thought twice about it."

Wally shook his head, wiping his eyes with a hand. "Tim . . ."

"You know it as well as I do, Wally. He's not going to be happy for a long time. He's going to _hate_ being in a wheelchair, hate it with every fiber of his being, and I don't blame him. Dick doesn't belong in a chair. But, Wally, I guarantee you, he'll never regret going after you, for saving you from whatever plans Savage had for you. _Never_."

"Tim . . ."

"No! You can't argue with me on this. You know I'm right," Tim insisted.

"I know," Wally whispered. The boy was right, but that didn't make the pain from being the reason your best friend is paralyzed any easier to bear. "I know . . . You're right. Dick's a selfless bastard like that but, that doesn't mean that I have like it."

Wally pulled the teen into his arms, hugging him for all he was worth. Dick got lucky getting this kid for a brother.

"You good, now?" Tim asked, his voice muffled in Wally's shoulder.

"Yeah," he sighed, "I'm good . . . but, for the record, this still hurts like a sonofabitch."

xxxxxxxxxxx

It was time to pay the piper. Wally entered the ICU unit with its private rooms that too few patients ever left. This was for the truly injured or sick, those who might not live through the night or whose lives were changed forever – those who wouldn't be returning to active duty ever again. Artemis was at his back for moral support. Tim followed them in to speak with Bruce.

The nursing station only held Dinah, Dr. Midnite, Batman, and Superman, at the moment. Dinah looked as exhausted as everyone else felt after being on duty here all night. Wally moved over to where she stood. She smiled in greeting, moving around the counter to hug the newly-returned speedster.

"Wally," Dinah whispered to him, squeezing him tight. "I didn't get a chance to welcome you back properly. How are you? Pieter saw you, didn't he? Are you alright?"

Wally hugged her back. "I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. N-Nightwing got me out of there just in time. Physically, I've no lasting effects, and M'gann and J'onn assured me there's no hidden programming up here," he said quietly, tapping his finger against his temple.

"Wally's problems were mostly dehydration and malnourishment. Once those issues were addressed, his weakness and disorientation cleared up immediately," Artemis added.

"That's wonderful to hear," Dinah exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Wally asked, nodding in Superman's direction.

"The League found him," she told them. "They captured Vandal Savage. He was brought in just twenty minutes ago. But, you're here to see Dick, aren't you?" Dinah asked, using Dick's real name since everyone present already knew Nightwing's identity.

As far as distractions went, however, the capture of Savage was one of the best.

"You got him?" Wally asked the Kryptonian, stepping up next to Batman.

Superman nodded, his countenance flicking instantly from serious to happy. "We did. I suppose we should thank him for pulling you out of the speed force. We had no idea you were trapped there," he added apologetically. "It is good to have you back, Wally. You were sorely missed."

"Thank you, and while it is good to be back, I have a grudge against Savage," Wally snapped. "I want to see him."

Batman's hand on his shoulder startled him. "You'll have to stand in line, Wallace," he growled low and menacing. "In the meantime, you should visit Dick. He'll be happy to see you."

"A-About him . . ." The words froze in Wally's throat. What could he say to the man? This was Dick's father, and despite what Tim said earlier, Batman would be well within his right to hate him. "H-how . . .?"

Batman's jaw tightened. "He's alive. I have you to thank for that, I hear."

Oh God! "No, don't thank me. I didn't . . . I mean, I wish . . ." he sighed, dropping his gaze. He couldn't look the man in the eyes. "I only wish I could have saved him back. I-I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Batman told him. "Nightwing would have died had it not been for you. As for the rest of this . . ." he sighed. "Well, we'll have to wait and see what fate has in store for us. For now, let's just be grateful that he's still with us."

Wally blinked at the kind words. How long had he been gone again? He had expected the man's hands around his throat, not squeezing his shoulder and thanking him.

"Is Dick . . . grateful?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question. He was afraid to hear it confirmed, however.

This time, it was Batman who looked away. "He's . . . It's a little early yet. He hasn't really had time to process everything. And, really, it's still too soon to give up all hope, despite the prognosis."

Wally caught Midnite's expression before it could shift to neutrality. It was clear he disagreed with Batman's opinion, meaning that Dick's condition, in Midnite's view was permanent. Batman was in denial? While Wally knew he should accept the doctor's view over that of a distraught father, Batman was no ordinary dad. If he had some semblance of hope left, then Wally decided he would side with the Bat. Still . . . he would need to be careful, so that he didn't get Dick's hopes up so far that, should nothing be able to be done, his friend wouldn't shatter on impact when he finally collided with his new reality.

"Before you go in," Batman said, "you need to be prepared for what you'll see."

"I don't know what you mean?" _Prepared_? _Prepared for what_?

Midnite took up the explanation. "To protect him from any further injury, it was necessary to place Nightwing in a traction bed. He won't be able to move anything beyond his fingers. He must be kept completely immobile for the next few weeks. Try not to let this upset you visibly as the situation is distressing enough to the patient as it is."

 _Next few_ _ **weeks**_? Oh God, this was going to be a nightmare for his friend. Artemis tucked her arm in Wally's, lending him her strength. _Good thing, too_ , he thought, feeling a little lightheaded with the news.

"We'll be careful," she promised.

"Wallace. I need to step out for a bit," Batman told him. "If you could stay with him until I return or, if you need to leave, have Tim take your place. I-I don't want him to be alone right now. You understand."

Wally swallowed, nodding. "I understand. No problem."

"Thank you." Batman's expression hardened, then, as he turned, leading the way out of the ICU unit, Superman on his heels.

Wally stared after them, thinking, _Savage has no idea the shitstorm that's heading his way_. . .

"Try to keep him calm if you can," the doctor reminded them before he, too, left the unit.

"He was given something a while ago," Dinah told them, "but if he needs something more, just hit the call light or pop your head out here. J'onn is supposed to relieve me in a few minutes, so he can help you if it becomes necessary."

Her smile wasn't especially reassuring, however. The fact that they needed to be reminded more than once to keep Dick calm meant that he was having a difficult time adjusting. And, the emphasis Dinah placed on the fact that the Martian would be available to assist wasn't lost on the speedster. J'onn would be available to calm Dick psychically if the drugs weren't able to do the job.

Wally grabbed Artemis' hand for support. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

xxxxxxxxxx

Dick's mask was off, his eyes shut when Wally entered the room. The speedster was suddenly thankful for the warning they had been given. As it was, he barely contained his gasp at the sight of his best friend strapped into the traction bed. It looked like a damned torture device! The inability to move more than his fingers had to be hell to the younger man.

Wally used the moment to regain himself. He knew his face must have been showing every conflicting emotion he was feeling. Artemis' hand had tightened around his wrist, and he heard her choke back a sob.

"Sh," he warned her quietly, and felt her nod against his shoulder.

"I'm okay," she whispered.

He wished he could say the same for Dick. Even closed, his friend's eyes were reddened and puffy, his face still damp, fresh from tears. He hesitated, afraid of waking him up. Dick looked exhausted and miserable. Had he gotten any sleep after waking from surgery and discovering that his life, as he'd known it, was now over?

Wally backed up a step, pulling Artemis with him. "We shouldn't wake him," he told her quietly.

"Batman didn't want him to be left alone," she reminded him. There was only one chair available, however. "You stay. I'm call Roy with the news about Savage. He'll want to know. I'll be out here if you need me."

Wally spun around, but Artemis was already slipping out the door. "Wait!"

"Nngh . . . Bruce?"

The sound of Dick's voice stopped him in his tracks. He didn't sound like himself. His voice was hoarse and weak . . . as if he had been screaming for hours. Wally winced at the image, but it refused to go away.

"Bruce?"

Wally could hear the panic creeping into his voice. They told him to keep Dick calm. _Damn it_! What the hell could he say? Girding himself, Wally stepped up close to the bed and leaned over into Dick's line of sight.

"Uh, no. Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me, buddy."

Dick's bloodshot eyes, glistened with emotion, and Wally watched him swallow down the fear that had just colored his voice a second ago. Amazingly, a slight smile wavered on his face.

"Wally? _Wally_! Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes," Dick croaked. "How are you? Did Midnite look you over? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Wally choked. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, he did last night. After . . . you know. Clean bill of health." He tried not to flinch at his own words.

Dick's smile widened as a single tear escaped, slithering into his hairline at his temple. "That's good! That's great! I was afraid that maybe we didn't get to you in time. Our intel said that Savage planned to brainwash you and use you as a mole within the League."

"He would have had his hands full with that task," Wally tried to joke. It fell flat. He sighed. "J'onn and M'gann have already searched and deemed me to be free of any programming." A muscle in his jaw clenched. "You . . . You got to me in time. I need to thank . . ."

"Don't thank me," Dick interrupted. "It's my fault you were trapped in the speed force in the first place."

Wally's eyebrows shot up. Tim had apparently been right in his summation. "How'd you get that numbskull idea?"

Dick blinked as if it were obvious. "It was my plan . . ."

" _Your_ plan? You planned to have the alien assholes blow up the world?" Wally asked incredulously.

"Uh, no, but . . . if everything had gone as it should, we would have been able to prevent them from activating those bombs to begin with," Dick argued. "You never would have been in that situation in the first place."

"Dick, don't." Wally glanced down, found his friend's fingers, and clasped them in his own. "Just . . . Don't be like Batman. _I_ made that decision, not you. What happened, it's all on me, and you know it. I chose to help. I knew what it was doing to me, and I chose not to stop."

Another tear slipped free. "No. You and Artie were retired. You wanted out of that life. You would have been safe if I hadn't talked Artemis and you into helping."

"Listen up, buddy. I saved the world. You're not going to take that away from me," Wally smirked. "I'm a hero. Self-sacrifice is what we do." His breath caught on that last line as he stared down at what remained of his best friend.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Dick. _God_! _I'm so sorry_!" So much for keeping Dick calm. Wally's face crumpled and he lowered his face down to press his forehead against his friend's. "I'm so sorry! I should have stopped Savage and I didn't. I was too damned slow."

"Hey! Hey, it's alright," Dick murmured. He flexed his fingers in the speedster's grip. It was the best he could do. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

Wally couldn't speak, so he nodded, squeezing Dick's fingers in response.

"It's okay, Walls," Dick told him. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It was worth . . . it . . ." Dick might have sounded convincing if his ruined voice hadn't cracked at that moment.

Wally leaned up to stare at the younger man, incredulously. Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, dampening his hair at his temples.

"Really! You're my best friend," Dick ground out, sniffling. "You're _worth_ it. _You are_." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but was failing miserably.

Wally wasn't sure he agreed but kept his mouth shut.

Dick's nose was running now but, of course, he couldn't do anything about it. Wally glanced around for some tissues, and tried to look nonchalant as he dabbed at the mess with a handful of Kleenex. It was useless, though, and he grimaced.

"Here," he commanded. "Blow."

Dick gaped at him for a full minute before bursting out laughing. "You're terrible at this, you know that?"

"Are you going to blow or not?" Wally asked, his own lips twitching. Never would he have imagined them being in this situation.

"I suppose you should get the practice in before you and Artie have kids," Dick snickered.

He blew.

" _Ew, gross_!" Wally yelped, struggling valiantly not to retch. "This is disgusting! No, wait. It's okay. I've got this." He dumped the wad of used tissues in the trashcan and yanked out a dozen more, slapping them over Dick's face. "Right, so . . . Um, you need to blow again?"

Dick's response was muffled, so Wally lifted the tissues.

"No. I'm good."

"'Kay." The speedster mopped up the rest awkwardly. "Ack!" he squeaked, "I got snot on me!" He tossed the tissues away while covering his mouth with his other hand. "' _Hrk_ '!"

"Wally! If you puke on me . . ." Dick growled in warning.

Wally snorted and choked promptly, coughing and gagging over the trashcan between his own pitiful laughter.

"You know, you suck at this," Dick declared dryly, but his amusement was evident. "Better pray your kids never get colds."

" _Urk_! I know!" Wally wailed as he turned on the faucet at the sink. He splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth. "I know. It would be awful!"

The door creaked open and Artemis peered carefully around the edge. "Is everything alright in here?" she asked warily.

"Artie?" Dick called out, unable to see her from his position. "Save me from this idiot."

Wally laughed, patting his face dry with paper towels. "Ass!"

"Wimp!"

"Jerk!"

"Dick!"

They burst out laughing at the same time.

Tilting her head at the unexpected turn of events, Artemis stepped into the room. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Wally assured her, smiling weakly.

"I can't believe he can take on the likes of Gorilla Grodd and Captain Cold, but a little snot makes him hurl," Dick sang out, almost happily.

Artemis glanced down at their friend. "Do I even _want_ to know?"

Dick smiled tiredly. "Probably not."

But, it wasn't hard to figure out as she looked down into wet, reddened eyes. Whatever happened in here had been cathartic, she decided. That could only be a good thing . . . she hoped. Artemis looked at Wally as he walked up to the other side of the bed, Dick between them.

"Probably not," Wally agreed.

Taking Dick's fingers in her hand, Artie leaned down and carefully pressed a kiss to Dick's forehead.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Bringing him back to me," she told him. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."

"He's worth it," Dick told her seriously, and then grinned. "He's a pantywaist, but he's worth it."

Wally gripped his friend's fingers where he stood and shook his head, but he was smiling. "You're such a dick," he quipped.

"But you love me anyway," Dick smirked.

Wally's smile slipped, and he nodded. "Yes. I do."

Artemis reached across the bed, taking Wally's hand in her free one.

"Yes," she agreed, "We _both_ do."

* * *

 **So we we've come to the crossroad! Now the real fun begins!**

 **Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	11. A Dish Best Served Cold

**There are a lot of POV changes here. I separated each with the name of the character whose perspective you are in. One POV can be considered "Neutral" or the "Reader's" perspective as we don't really follow any one person's viewpoint.**

* * *

 **Jason**

Jason slid the sample into the League's transporter computer and waited for Goldie's DNA to upload. It didn't take nearly as long as it used to, he noticed. The transporter must have gotten an upgrade since the last time he had tried this. He hoped this trick Dick had showed him years ago still worked or he'd have company waiting for him when he arrived on the Watchtower.

It wasn't as if he wouldn't be welcomed, necessarily. He wasn't killing anymore, or at least, not unless he found a villain that was really begging for it . . . It was just too bad that Vandal Savage was immortal because if anyone needed an escort off this mortal coil, it was him. Roy's assurance that no one blamed him for Dickweed's predicament was a farce. Maybe the large part of the League didn't, but Jason was positive that Bruce might have a different perspective now that his favored son was retired to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

But . . . Jason slid the electronic keycard into the data slot and typed in one of the codes that Dick had provided him back when Jason wore a yellow and black cape instead of the leather jacket and red helmet of the Red Hood. 'Just in case,' the newly-dubbed Nightwing had explained to him. If the League was compromised or defeated by a foe and someone needed to get onto the Watchtower without being detected, this would work. After all, Dick had told him, it had happened before.

Ironically, Vandal Savage had been behind that first time as well. Jason had heard the story. That time was before him, before the advent of the second Robin.

The first Robin's talent for hacking was well known, but no one knew of this, even Batman had been kept in the dark. The only person that Dick had trusted with this had been one thirteen-year-old fanboy, still wet behind the mask. He had never said anything at the time, but it had been one of Jason's most cherished memories. Dick had chosen _Jason_ to share his backdoor hack with over any League member, over his friends, and even Bruce himself.

It was this memory, probably over any other that had prompted Jason to forego his own revenge on Ra's to get Dick the information on Wally, to help him rescue the errant speedster when asked . . . and, for what he was about to do now. _IF_ the codes were still good after all this time, that is.

The script was still running across the screen at a pace too fast for Jason to follow. Dick could, he couldn't help thinking. He growled and shook his head as if the harsh movement would shake loose his constant need to compare himself with his older brother. It was a compulsion that the Joker had failed to beat out of him, a little part of his former life that had survived his death.

He couldn't help wondering if Roy would be up there waiting on him. He had already seen the archer once in the early morning hours. Jason had no desire to meet up with him again, even _if_ Roy had been the one to call him with the info about Savage. Roy wanted Jason to be kept in the loop, to draw him back to the fold, but Roy wouldn't want what Jason wanted. Roy would likely stop him or rat him out if he knew his plans. That's why Jay had been harsh and cut the call short after Roy had imparted the news. Let the archer consider him too angry and guilt-ridden to do anything today.

But, the truth was that Jason was too angry and guilt-ridden to _not_ do anything about it, and there was no time like the present, when the League was too wrapped up in their emotions to worry about someone like Jason, a semi-friendly with a grudge.

The beep alerted him that the hack was successful.

 _Damn, Dickweed_ , he thought as he pulled out his keycard. _You still got it_. It was yet another thing for Jason to feel jealous of but, overall, the list of things was shrinking dramatically. Goldie wasn't nearly so golden anymore. That gleam had become tarnished and Vandal Savage needed to pay for that.

" _B-01, Nightwing"_ , the transporter intoned mistakenly as it scanned him, and then Jason was feeling the unique experience of having his molecules broken down and torn apart in order to be beamed into orbit and reassembled on the Watchtower.

This wouldn't have worked had Nightwing been beamed aboard, but he had arrived via Martian bioship. The hack allowed him to separate the transporter computer's information from the mainframe which would prevent it from acknowledging Nightwing's presence on board for the time it took Jason to transport to the Watchtower. When his vision cleared, Jason was standing in a receiving room used to receive bulk shipments and supplies. It was currently deserted as shipments weren't scheduled to arrive on Sunday mornings.

Jason listened for a second for an intruder alert. When none came, he ran to the wall containing the ventilation shaft. Dick had given him the schematics of the Watchtower at the same time he had taught Jason how to hack the system. He double-checked his location and the map. He didn't want to get lost in that maze. Once he knew where he had to go, Jason slipped into the shaft and carefully closed the vent face behind him. No sense alerting anyone who happened in that there was someone unauthorized wandering about the satellite with a misplaced vent cover. Another couple of seconds allowed him to disable the motion and heat sensors along the path he was taking, and then he was moving.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Savage**

"So, he's finally died, did he? I expected you here an hour ago," Vandal Savage sat on the bunk provided, lounging comfortably, looking quite relaxed despite facing down The Batman. He didn't wait for the grim Crusader to reply to his taunt. "I must admit he's hanging on longer than I expected him to. You should be thanking me, you know. I did you a favor."

Vandal stood up, moving to stand just a few feet in front of his adversary, ignoring the eyes beyond the forcefield that held him here. He contemplated the Dark Knight's silence, but after a few moments, Savage concluded that what he was seeing was a chip in the hero's exterior. The man was obviously too distraught with the death of his old partner and unable to voice his anger. Vandal smiled grandly as he continued with his analysis, walking around the mortal slowly.

"Your protégé was weak. Surely, you realize this by now. His affections for others made him that way. Your affection for him, however, damages your reputation."

Savage completed his rotation and stopped in front of the Bat, facing off with him. He made no threatening moves, aware that he was being watched by some of the League's hardest hitters. Superman and Flash would be in here before he could choke the life from his grief-stricken victim. In the meantime, he complained of the waste of a once-worthy foe.

"You had the ability to be my equal despite of your mortality, yet you throw it away with this ridiculous need to take in these . . . children. Are they supposed to be your legacy? This is two you've lost now. The Joker beat me to the other one but, if you like, I can rid you of the last of your clingers-on, this latest Robin. Then, you would be free to meet your potential."

"Savage . . ." Batman stepped forward, closing the difference.

He wasn't worried. What could the Bat do to him? He was Vandal Savage, an immortal. Even if Batman's code of honor allowed him to kill, the man's friends would stop him. The Bat's ability to intimidate was utterly ineffectual. Vandal judged that his calm, emotionless state in the face of Savage's verbal attack was proof of his hypothesis and relaxed his guard. The other Leaguers appeared to have done the same, determining for themselves that Batman wasn't a risk. The hero was too much in control of himself. They leaned back in their chairs or turned away in disgust, giving the hero the privacy he had asked for so as to confront his protégé's murderer.

"You have something to say to me, Batman? I will graciously accept your gratitude," Vandal smiled broadly, his arms open in a welcoming gesture, feeling safe with his many angry but morally-upright guards.

In a move that would have impressed the Flash, Batman's hands crossed the short distance between them. Had he ever moved so quickly before? He thought not.

Hard hands encased in leather gloves grabbed Vandal's head, twisting. The snap was audible throughout the room as were the gasps of his colleagues. The forcefield disintegrated even as Savage's body hit the ground like a brick. The thump even sounded different . . . Like that of a lifeless sack of grain. Hands jerked Batman out of the cell.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Neutral**

"My God, Bruce!" Superman gaped past him at the corpse on the floor. "What the hell? You _don't_ kill! _Batman_ doesn't kill! What of your code?"

Batman reached over to the controls, reinstating the forcefield. He looked up at Clark first, and then at the rest of his shocked colleagues.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured with infuriating calm. "I didn't _kill_ anyone. Vandal Savage is still alive."

A groan issued forth from the cell as a reanimated Savage slowly climbed to his feet. He reached up, twisting his head back around with another loud crack. He bent and turned his head, stretching his neck as if loosening tense muscles before stepping up to the magnetic field that separated him from his jailers.

"What the hell was _that_?" he growled. "What of your vaulted reputation, Batman? Your high standard of ethics? Your vow to never take a life?"

Batman glanced back. Only Superman could see the rigidity in the man's jaw.

"You're still alive, aren't you?" Batman stated coolly before he turned around and walked out with a swirl of cape. It was time to get back to his son.

"Don't turn your back on me!" Savage yelled at the Bat's retreating back. When the doors closed, Vandal snarled at the others. "Is that your idea of protection? You just let that man kill me!"

Superman faced Savage, crossing his arms. "Odd, but you don't look dead to me." He walked out of the brig, calling back over his shoulder. "I think I'll head down to the medical bay to see Nightwing. Dr. Midnite said that he was stabilized now."

Martian Manhunter went with him. "I will accompany you. I am to relieve Black Canary of duty."

Savage strained to see him go. "So, the boy's still alive? Why did Batman still break my neck?" He scoffed derisively. "I knew his partners made him weak. I told him so. Pathetic."

Wonder Woman stepped up to the cell. "Don't test me, Savage. If _I_ were to do that, it would take you so much longer to revive yourself." Then, she turned her back to the villain as well. "It's my turn to take watch duty," she announced as she exited next.

"The mighty Justice League is reduced to mob tactics and threats?" Savage said, tilting his head on his newly-healed neck.

Barry shook his head in disgust. "I'm sorry. I can't be here any longer. You coming, GL?"

"Right behind you, Flash," Hal agreed, following him out.

Hawkgirl was all that remained. She kicked her chair back away from the console with her foot and stood. She glared at Savage through the magnetic field that kept him contained. She stretched her wings and her back.

"The boy lives and yet I'm the target of all of this ire," Savage murmured, pondering that. He had stabbed the boy in his spine. If he still lived, then his career as one of these costumed annoyances had been effectively ended. Perhaps that was the reason behind . . .

Hawkgirl interrupted his thoughts, speaking to him through the forcefield. "Don't think for a moment that Klarion will be coming to your rescue," she told him. "Dr. Fate and Zatanna have placed magical protections over the entire Watchtower as well as your cell. No opposing magic will penetrate it, and they will prevent you from walking out, even should the magnetic field fail for any reason. You are well and truly trapped here."

"All this for two who aren't even League members?" Savage laughed. "I think the Light has underestimated the League's partiality for those children. You will not contain me for long, no matter your precautions, and then the Light will use this knowledge to our benefit. Much the worse for your protégés."

Hawkgirl turned a knob on the control panel. "You know," she said, "you talk far too much. I'm getting sick listening to you pontificate like some fat, royal, never-ending slob."

Vandal's mouth was moving, but nothing came through the sound block she had placed over his cell. Hawkgirl raised a hand to her ear as if straining to hear him, then laughed. "You can hear me, but no one can hear you anymore. You aren't going anywhere, Vandal, so just settle down on your bunk and catch some Z's. I'm going for some coffee."

She stopped in front of the cell. "Would you like some?" She tilted her head. "What's that, Savage? I can't hear you. No? None for you? Fine. I'll be back in a few."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Savage**

Vandal Savage was alone in his cell contemplating his revenge on the Dark Knight. Batman would not get away with humiliating him. He had all the time in the world to plan this. He moved to his bunk and laid down. Perhaps, he would take the last Robin away from him first. It would be devastating for the man to lose all those soldiers he had trained to continue his legacy before Savage returned the favor and broke the Bat's neck.

Unbeknownst to him, above the door to the brig, gloved fingers took out first one screw attaching the grate to the ventilation shaft then another. It moved quickly and silently to one after the other until the grate was carefully removed, and the helmeted figure dropped to the floor. He set the grate against the wall for easy retrieval. Red Hood moved toward the only cell whose forcefield was activated, confirming the cell's inhabitant. Satisfied, he turned toward the control console, attaching a tiny device to the panel. He moved back into the cell's entrance as he tugged out a small remote from the belt beneath his leather jacket.

So far, the prisoner had yet to notice his visitor.

But, he would . . .

Jason flicked the remotes switch and the magnetic field fizzled out of existence. As he stepped into the cell, Savage finally noticed that he was no longer alone. The villain sat up abruptly as the Red Hood used his remote to activate the field once more. It wouldn't do for the bastard to escape, not that he would be in any condition for it soon.

"How did you do that?" Savage demanded. "I was told the cell was guarded by wards to prevent anyone from entering."

"Then, you weren't listening closely," Red Hood told him. "The wards prevent anyone ' _magical_ ' from entering and you from exiting. The ward don't do shit about someone like me."

Savage narrowed his eyes. "I don't know you. I recognize your 'hood', however. A colleague of mine told me he once wore one like it but, _you_ are _not_ him."

Your 'colleague' didn't wear anything like mine," Jason gritted out through his teeth.

"So, what is it you wish from me?"

Jason pocketed the remote and lifted his hands to his helmet. He dropped it to the floor beside his feet. Savage frowned. The one in front of him wore a red mask beneath the helmet. The youngster could hardly be called a man yet.

"Paranoid much?" Savage asked with a smirk, indicating the redundancy of the mask.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Am I _supposed_ to know you?" He began laughing.

"You stabbed my brother," Jason growled.

One of Savage's eyebrows rose, intrigued. "Your brother?"

"Don't recognize me yet, Savage?"

Vandal shrugged. Not that he cared, but this was more entertaining than staring at the blank walls of his cell. "Sorry," he said to annoy his tormentor. "I can't say that I do."

"Let me help you out. I'm the man who is going to kill you," Jason pulled his gun free and pointed it at Savage's forehead. A small red dot appeared to the area directly between the villain's eyes.

"I'm not sure you know who I am," Vandal told him. "I am immortal, boy. I cannot die. You cannot kill me."

It was Jason's turn to shrug. "I vote that we test that theory," he said and pulled the trigger.

The back of Vandal Savage's head exploded out onto the wall behind him. Blood, pieces of brain matter, and shards of bone slid down the wall in a sort of macabre-looking waterfall. Savage dropped to the floor at Jason's feet like a felled tree.

But, outside of the cell, with the sound dampener activated, not a sound was heard.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Jason**

Standing there, Jason watched carefully. For long moments, nothing happened. Savage merely laid there like so much roadkill but, even if Savage didn't know who Red Hood was, Jason Todd was familiar with Vandal Savage. But, for several long and satisfying moments, Vandal Savage was dead.

Eventually, the corpse on the floor twitched. Had he not been looking for it so closely, Jason might have missed the fingers moving. As he watched, the back of the head began to pull itself together. New brain matter plumped up, newly-replaced bone slid back into place, the skin knitting itself together over it all. New hair sprouted wherever brand-new skin appeared, but the hair that remained was still soaked through with gore.

Savage groaned, and Jason's lips lifted at the pain-filled sound. So, Savage was immortal, but he could also be killed, and the death and resurrection appeared to be extremely uncomfortable for the imperishable villain. When he could speak, he glared hatefully at his uninvited guest.

"You little shit!" he roared. "You dare . . .!"

Jason smiled slightly, encouraged by the immortal's ire. "Now, that _is_ a nifty-looking trick. I wonder . . ." Jason leaned down to ask, "Did it hurt? 'Cause . . . you know, it _looked_ like it hurt."

"I told you I cannot die," Savage yelled at him as he climbed clumsily to his feet. "You wasted your bullet, boy."

Jason pretended to think on this for a second, then shook his head. "Nah . . . I don't think so. You want to know why?"

He didn't wait for Savage to reply simply because he didn't care what the man said. Jason was here for retribution. "I'll tell you," he volunteered. "See, I think what I did to you _hurt_. I think that when you put yourself back together later, that it hurts as well. And, well," he shrugged, "that kind of makes it all worthwhile."

Jason lifted his gun suddenly and shot him again. Savage was as unprepared for the second bullet as he had been for the first one. It plowed through the exact same spot as the first, and for a second time, Savage's head blew out in the back. The immortal fell once again to the floor in a lifeless heap. The pose was very nearly the same as it was before and the wall behind him began to look like something out of a horror flick.

Since he was going to be here a while, Jason leaned against the wall beside the forcefield. Might as well get comfortable while he waited for Savage to put himself back together again. He checked his watch. Five minutes passed before the villain groaned again, picking himself up off the floor.

Vandal whirled on Jason this time. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Why don't you tell me," Jason murmured, pulling the trigger a third time.

This time, Savage tried to avoid the bullet, but didn't move fast enough. Instead of between the eyes, this time the bullet entered the man's temple, causing the left side of Savage's face to disintegrate from the powerful ammunition the boy carried. Savage collapsed once again while Jason prepared to wait.

They weren't done by half. Dick would be suffering from Savage's actions for the rest of his life. The fucker deserved to suffer for more than a few paltry minutes before returning to his perfect immortal health.

Several minutes later, Savage pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting his arm across his knees. "If Nightwing is your brother, I hear tell he still lives. Why do all this if he isn't dead?"

Jason's eyes narrowed as he leaned down, nostrils flaring in anger. "Because it entertains me, you immortal piece of shit," he snarled as he pulled the trigger again.

 _He's going to be getting pissed_ , Jason decided. He moved to the other side of the door.

When Vandal awoke, he leapt to his feet with a roar, but the red-hooded one wasn't there. He hesitated only a second before spinning around. Jason shot him in the chest, then put another round in his head before his body could begin to fall. It was a classic double-tap.

The bullet rolled off Savage's chest after his body expelled it, making a small slinking noise when it bounced off the tile floor, enough to warn Jason that the man was healed. Vandal climbed to his feet and turned to face the boy.

"What part of immortal do you not understand?" he asked him carefully as if he were talking to a slow-witted imbecile. "You will run out of bullets eventually, and I will still be here at the end of it."

"Yeah, that's what you keep telling me. But, you see, I have this theory," Jason told him. "Are you _truly_ immortal or do you just have a large allotment of times that you can come back? Who's to say that this time wasn't your last time? That if I shot you again, that you might be well and truly gone?"

"You waste my time." Savage growled.

"I'll just have to make it up to you in your next life." Jason pulled the trigger.

Savage returned to consciousness with a roar. "Quit doing . . ." His words were cut off as the next bullet tore through his throat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Savage**

Vandal fell back. This time, it took several seconds before the darkness overtook him. He hated waiting for it. It was as the boy had said. Death _did_ hurt as did his resurrection every damned time, but he had long ago learned to put the pain away during his death throes. If only the boy wasn't so damned infuriating. His anger was making it difficult to concentrate, so he was feeling every prick and painful tingle as his nerves knitted themselves back together.

He awoke with a sore throat, damn it.

"Are you done?" he croaked. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.

"Not even a little." Jason murmured.

As the pain slowly faded, Savage awoke annoyed. "Don't let me bore you," he grumbled, shoving himself to his feet.

His clothes were uncomfortably sticky with the cooling blood, his hair was matted with gore. He would have to be in the shower for hours to get it all out. If he didn't, the stench of death would follow him until all the rotting flesh was finally gone.

"No worries. I'm good," Jason smirked.

Savage opened his eyes to the ceiling - again. He frowned. It, too, had flecks of his blood marring its pristine white surface. How had it managed to spray so high? The ceiling of the cell was at least 15 feet high.

"I know you're back," Jason called out to him.

"You are an annoying, little flea," Vandal snapped. "Eventually, you will run out of bullets and then, what will you do? When I have my revenge, you will beg for death ere I'm finished with you."

Jason laughed, unconcerned. "I hope you don't have anything else planned for the afternoon, then. My magazine holds seventeen rounds. I have seven remaining."

"Only seven?" Savage rolled to his side, laughing. "Well, have at it, then. Let's get this over with."

Jason lifted the left side of his jacket to reveal a second firearm. "This one holds seventeen, too," he told him conversationally. "As does the four extra magazines I have in my pockets, and the six I keep in my belt."

Vandal scowled. "Were you expecting to fight off an army?"

"Failure to prepare means preparing to fail," Jason quoted blithely. Bruce would be proud. Batman lamented that Jason never paid enough attention to the lessons he attempted to teach him.

The groan Vandal emitted the next time consciousness swept over him was long and frustrated.

"This grows old . . ."

He awoke annoyed. The little shit didn't even bother with conversation the last time.

Vandal opened his eyes. He was losing count. How many times had the little shit killed him? Pretending weakness, Savage hoped to lure his tormentor into a false sense of security, and then, when the time was right, he pounced.

When Vandal awoke this time, it was with his face pressed into the corner of his cell and his head bent at an unusual angle. His body was bunched up as if his already-dead corpse had plowed face-first into the wall. Though his memory of the altercation was slow in coming, he had no doubt that this had been exactly what had occurred. Savage hated to admit it, but he ached all over. The pain wouldn't last – it never lasted – but, he was having a difficult time rising above it.

He shoved away from the wall and rolled over into a sitting position, struggling to contain the moan of pain the movement caused him. He found the boy back in his original spot. It was the cleanest area left in the blood-soaked cell, but the boy was not without evidence of his activities. Blood splattered his clothing, staining his shirt, jacket, and the cargo pants he wore. He even had some droplets . . .

"You have some of my . . . um, it's on your face - right there," Vandal told him, circling a finger above an area on his own face.

"I'll shower . . . later." Jason said with a nod. He didn't bother wiping the flecks of blood away.

"What exactly are you trying to prove here?" Savage asked. Did he sound tired? He hoped not. He had never, in his 50,000 years of life, ever died and been resurrected so often in so short of time. It was exhausting.

Jason's eyebrow lifted. "Prove? Me? Nothing."

"Then why do all this? Your brother lives." Savage argued.

" _Why_?" The boy grew grim, and Vandal knew he could count this remaining life in seconds. "You may not be able to die permanently, Savage," Jason snarled, "but, I mean to make you wish that you could."

Vandal laughed. It was meant to sound derisive but came out weary. "You don't have enough bullets on you for that," he muttered.

"You're repeating yourself." Jason told him. "And, I don't care."

"Eventually, I _will_ escape this place," Savage told him. "I always do . . . And then, I will find you. I will torture you for months and make your death last for weeks before I spread whatever is left of you into the four winds. No one will ever find your body."

The edges of the boy's lips quirked up, as if he were amused by Savage's threats. "Been there; done that. Have the t-shirt." He straightened and pulled out his second pistol. "But, maybe we should play this another way."

Vandal screamed as Jason placed two bullets into each of the villain's knees and one in his stomach.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Jason**

Jay holstered both of his weapons and bent to pick up his helmet.

"There are always consequences to your actions, Savage," Jason said as he settled the helmet over his head. "You think about that as you sit there and bleed out."

With that, he fingered the switch on the remote, letting himself out of the cell and put the forcefield back into place. Walking over to the console, Jason picked up his hacking device and tucked it into his belt. With all the precautions in place, no one was worried that Vandal Savage would escape, but Hawkgirl would still be back any second to check on him.

That she hadn't interrupted him already, surprised him a little, not that it mattered any longer. He had accomplished what he had set out to do. It wasn't enough – Would never be enough – but, it would have to do. He hoped that Dick appreciated the effort, although Goldie would likely never admit it even if he did.

 _That's okay, though_ , Jay thought to himself. _At least,_ _I'll be able to sleep after this_. _Maybe, better than I have in a long while_.

He climbed back up into the ventilation shaft, pulling the grate up with a length of bat-line. Splattered with Savage's blood would turn too many heads, he would need to go back the way he came. Jason just finished screwing in the last of the bolts when the door to the brig slid open. He didn't stay to watch the fireworks that would happen once Hawkgirl got a look at Vandal's cell. He planned to be on earth before the alarm went off and the Watchtower was placed on lockdown.

They'd know it was him. There were security cameras all over the place. Jason had disabled all but one of them before he had entered the room. The one left only showed him walking to the console and then, after – He checked his watch – fifty minutes, a blood-covered version of him walking back before leaving the room. They may not approve, but damned if anyone would blame him for this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Clark**

Superman glanced at the figure in the bed, grimacing. He was supposed to be invincible but seeing Dick like this hurt as much as a pound of kryptonite. Of all people, this should have never happened to him. Images of the little nine-year-old flipping all over the Batcave, full of questions, laughter, and this kind of never-ending, effervescent energy, flew through his head. Dick had already been Robin for the better part of a year before Superman had gotten the chance to meet him. The flood of memories forced the Man of Steel to look away.

The person he needed to speak to stood in front of the window, looking out but unseeing. The sight of the earth, spinning below them like a beautiful, multi-colored marble hung on a backdrop of black velvet and diamonds was wasted on him.

"Is he asleep?" Clark asked as a way of greeting. He already knew the answer to that from the rhythm of the boy's breathing and the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Bruce's cowl lay discarded on the chair nearby. He wasn't surprised by his visitor. Although, Clark was the one with super hearing, he knew that Bruce had been aware of his presence even before he entered the room. He didn't turn when he answered.

"He finally succumbed to the medication an hour ago," Bruce murmured. "You came to speak to me about Savage. Say what you want, Clark, I do not regret my actions in the least."

"It's not your actions I'm here to talk about." Clark saw that he had his friend's attention. "Red Hood visited Vandal Savage after we left the brig. I've been told that Red Hood is Jason. Bruce, is that true?"

"It is."

"How? How could it be? I went to his funeral." He shouldn't be shocked. It wasn't as though people haven't miraculously returned from the dead. Even he had done so once after being stabbed during a battle with Doomsday.

"He had help," Bruce said simply.

When no other information was forthcoming, Clark stepped up to the window beside his friend. Bruce could have been a statue for all the emotion he was showing. Even snapping Savage's neck had appeared to be a cold and calculated move on his part. Clark had overheard some of the criticism by those who didn't understand the man, but Clark knew better. He had long ago learned that the colder, more detached that Batman appeared, the greater the pain he felt.

There was nothing he wanted to do more than to let the man be, to let him grieve for what his son had lost. Leaving him alone seemed the only thing anyone could do to comfort the man, but they needed to discuss this. What Jason had done was beyond what was acceptable, even when consumed by grief and rage, and this was without the added concerns over the breach in the Watchtower's security.

"No one's sure how he got in." Superman said quietly so as not to disturb the boy's sleep. "If it were Dick instead of Jason, the question of how would be moot, but as of right now, the Watchtower's security has been compromised. We'll need a full overhaul with diagnostics to plug any weaknesses left behind."

Batman grunted his acknowledgement. "It shouldn't be an issue. I can do a scan and run a few scenarios if you like, but the system should be fine. No worries."

Clark gaped at him. "No -? How can you say that? Red Hood entered the Watchtower without the computer logging his arrival. No one was aware of his presence. That alone is cause for concern. But, he did so for the express purpose of breaking into the brig to torture our prisoner. He was there for nearly an hour and not a single alarm went off in all that time."

He didn't know what he was expected, but certainly more than he received. "Bruce . . ."

"Jason . . . has some problems, but he wouldn't endanger the Watchtower or risk Savage escaping." Bruce told him finally. "Not with Dick being in traction and unable to move."

Superman glanced back at the bed, but there was no variation in the boy's breathing or his heartrate. This could turn into an argument and Clark had no desire to wake the boy by accident. He would need to keep his voice soft.

"I came here as soon as I saw the video. I honestly expected to find him here," Clark said. "It seems as inconceivable that Jason would have left the Watchtower without checking on Dick as it does to imagine his psychosis. He's not the boy I remember, Bruce. You should have said something about his instability. Jason shouldn't be walking around out there when he is obviously a ticking time bomb. Who knows what he could do? Savage is only alive now because his body can regenerate itself."

"Jason is not a danger to the public," Bruce assured him. "Criminals, however . . ."

"Criminals! Speaking of which, there's a report about seventeen criminals being taken to Gotham General over the course of last night. Put there by a young man wearing a leather jacket and a red helmet . . ." Clark ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Are they all still alive?"

Superman gaped at him. "Yes, but it was a close thing. Bruce, what you did to Savage . . . I get it. You went in knowing that he would survive and be healed. I allowed it because you needed to punish him somehow for what he did to Dick, but Jason? We don't deal in _torture_ , Bruce."

Batman stiffened. Clark could hear his jaw creaking with tension.

"You allowed me?" he said, low in his throat.

It was a threatening sound to be sure. If Clark wasn't Kryptonian, he might have been intimidated. It was the truth that when having to confront the Bat with unpleasantness, more times than not, it was Superman who did it.

"Do you, even for a second, believe that I didn't want to do what Jason did to that animal? If there was anyone I could unleash on without breaking my vow, it is Savage. But with a room full of concerned colleagues ready to drag me out at a moment's notice, what was the use. I won't waste the energy. But, if you think I'm going to chastise or punish Jason for what he did . . . you don't know me very well at all." Bruce growled. "I say to you again, no one is dead, although, had Savage gotten his way, Dick should have been."

Clark sucked in his breath. "I understand how you must feel but Bruce, if you don't deal with Jason, then the League will have no choice but to step in and take care of this ourselves."

Batman spun around, but it was Bruce Wayne glaring at him through those lenses. "You think you understand? Jason is back through some miracle, but I nearly lost him all over again because I went easy on Joker."

"Breaking two-thirds of that psychopathic clown's bones was easy?" Clark scoffed.

"What the hell is Dick going to think if I do nothing? Savage is so long-lived that anything done to him is less than nothing."

"You're not going to lose Dick," Clark tried to assure him.

"There are other ways to lose someone besides death, Clark."

"Jason . . ."

"You will leave Jason to me," Bruce interrupted. "He's not your concern."

"And what about the breach to our security? Shouldn't that be cause for concern?"

Batman turned back to staring out the window. "Cyborg is going over the system even as we speak. I will find a moment to look into some new preventative measures against hacking into the zeta-tube later, but I'm not concerned. This wasn't a regular breach. Jason isn't a hacker, or at least not one on a level that the League should be concerned with. If I'm correct, and I believe I am, this was Dick's doing."

Clark raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Dick? Dick's in no position to hack into the zeta-tube's protocols."

"It wouldn't have had to have happened today. After Savage's first attempt to take over the League, I suspected that Robin wanted to make certain that he had a backdoor handy, just in case something like that ever happened again. What I hadn't expected was for him to have shared the information with Jason . . . Or for Dick to not have changed the codes after Jason's death."

"Do we need to worry that Jason will return? Moving Savage is risky, but we can't have a wild card going in and out of his cell, and the torture - Bruce, that was . . ."

"He won't return," Bruce assured him.

"How do you know that?"

"Jason did what he had to do. He's done."

"And that's it? Has having a psychopath on the loose in Gotham has become the norm for you, then?"

Bruce glared at him. "This is a _family_ matter, Clark. It will be handled within the family."

Clark's mouth tightened unhappily. "We used to be like family . . . once."

"You're going to wake him," Bruce snapped, ignoring the observation.

Unhappy with the course of their conversation, Clark nodded at the dismissal. "Very well. But, Bruce . . ."

"No one touches Jason, Clark."

"Fine. I'll tell the others. We'll expect you to handle this." Clark moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. "For what it's worth, though, I'm sorry. Dick was one of the best. He didn't deserve this."

"He's still alive, Clark. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't speak about him in the past tense," Bruce replied coldly.

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized what he was saying. "Ah, hell. I apologize, Bruce. I didn't realize – I didn't mean . . .Shit." Clark ran a hand over his face. "I was speaking of Nightwing, not of Dick himself."

Silence answered him. Sighing, Clark left the room feeling like he had accomplished nothing.

* * *

 **Let us know what you all think! And thanks for reading!**

 **Also unfortunately we'll be taking about a 4 month break from posting. Real life has gotten in the way a bit these last few months and we need sometime to get everything caught up.**

 **Goingdownwithmyships**

 **Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt**


	12. Suffer In Silence

**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE'RE BACK! I'm not gonna take a second longer sooooo please enjoy!**

* * *

It was nearly five o'clock in the morning when Jason climbed back through his window and into his apartment. He had only been living here for the last eight weeks, moving here after his visit to the Watchtower . . . and Savage. He'd moved because he couldn't imagine that somebody from the League wouldn't come looking him. If not the League, surely Batman would have shown up. Jason had tortured Vandal Savage for an hour, shooting him over and over each time he returned from the dead. But, as far as he could tell, no one came. Not even Bruce.

He didn't know what to think about that . . .

 _Huh. I guess I should have shot the bastard a few more times_ , Jason thought sourly as he took off his gun belt. He set it on his kitchen table, an old Formica deal that wobbled every time something was set on it.

He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was collapse in his bed, but his guns needed cleaned and he really should take a shower. It might even help him sleep.

Sleep . . . now, there was a luxury commodity in short supply. Jason hadn't gotten more than a few hours' sleep since Wally's rescue. Even alcohol didn't help, not that Jason wasn't willing to let it try. Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Dick lying on his side, that blasted knife sticking out of his back, and the blood slowly seeping into the ground beneath him. The last time Jason had spoken to him had been through the metal door in the secret basement level below Savage's Turkish castle. In the dream, however . . .

Dick had blamed him for not following him into that labyrinth, for not protecting his back from Savage's blade.

Jason tugged the helmet off as he looked inside his refrigerator. Empty but for some moldy cheese, a quart of expired milk, a single beer, and a jar of pickles. He grabbed the beer, turned around, and froze.

Someone was in his apartment . . .

He had been so distracted by his thoughts, he hadn't realized it until now. He glanced in the direction of his guns. His place was small, but the distance was daunting considering who he would be up against. He'd never make it if his guest decided to attack him. Jay's eyes swept the rest of the living room/kitchen combo that made up most of his two-room apartment.

The sky was lightening outside, but inside was still nothing but shadows. His gaze fell on the far corner. If it had been anyone else, Ra's Lazarus Pit might have been wasted. Jason's distraction should have proven fatal but, as it was, he knew his visitor had a distaste for murder.

"Fuck it! I know you're there," he snapped. "Might as well step out where I can see you."

The shadow moved, and the shape of a bat appeared.

"I know Alfred did a better job teaching you manners than that," Bruce's voice came out from under the cowl.

He didn't even try to growl. So, he wasn't Batman come to haul his ass in, then. Despite the costume, he was here as Bruce. Jason's heart still pounded, but he allowed the tension in his body to ease slightly.

"Yeah, well, Alfred isn't here, is he?" Jason used the countertop to pop the top off his beer. "I'd offer you a beer, but this is my last one and I figure I need it more than you." He took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, why are _you_ here?"

A thousand thoughts ran through his head, but only one stayed.

Dick's dead.

His gut churned, threatening to reject the beer. _Oh God_ . . . _Oh, fuck_! That's the only reason Bruce would bother to track him down.

"You should sit down," Bruce said, stepping forward.

 _Oh God_ . . .

"When . . .? I mean, what happened?" He stammered. Any hope that Dick might one day forgive him was gone now, not that Jason had expected or deserved it. "Damn it! Roy said he'd been stabilized."

"Sit down before you fall down," Bruce moved across the distance, grabbing Jason's arm, he shoved him into the kitchen chair. "Dick isn't dead," Bruce told him, correctly reading Jason's facial expression.

Jason blinked up at him. "Wha-? He's not? Why _are_ you here then, if not to . . .?"

"I'm here because it's been two months since your brother was injured . . ."

"He's not my brother," Jason blurted. _Not anymore_. When Savage had stabbed Dick, he managed to destroy more than one life.

"Yes, he _is_ ," Bruce insisted. "I've left you alone for long enough, Jason. You have a family whether you want it or not. It's time you are part of it."

Jason snorted. "What do you want from me?"

"Dick's been asking after you," Bruce said.

"What? You want me to send him a card or something?" It was harder than he expected to act neutral.

"A visit might be nice," Bruce murmured.

"I figured I wouldn't be welcomed back on the Watchtower," he said.

"He's not on the Watchtower. Dick was transported to the manor a couple of days ago."

"Oh?" He was desperate for information but, damned if he'd ask for it.

"He's out of traction now. The doctors agreed to it so long as he's wearing a brace."

"So, it's true?" Jay asked. He knew it in his head and yet, all of this had felt surreal, like the last two months Jason had been walking around in a nightmare. Whatever hope he had retained that he would wake up one morning and everything would be back to normal – whatever normal was – disappeared. "He really is . . . paralyzed?"

The muscles in Bruce's jaw worked, but it was his only reaction. Jay almost snorted. The man really was made of ice, apparently. Part of him was a little disappointed. He had expected something more for the golden boy, Bruce's perfect son.

"So far, yes."

Jason frowned. "So far? You mean, there's a chance he could walk again? Is that what Midnite told you?"

Bruce's lips tightened. "I have hopes that, maybe, if we can locate the right doctor . . ."

Running a hand over his face, Jason slumped in his chair. "Ah, fuck me. So, that would be a no," he retorted angrily. "Damn it, Bruce. I hope like hell you aren't saying stupid shit like that in front him."

Bruce stiffened. "I don't know what . . ."

"Cut the crap, Bruce! God-damn it! Even you can't be that dense."

"Until we've exhausted every possibility . . ."

"You're an asshole. Do you know that?" Jay snapped. "No, you probably don't. No one has the fucking balls to stand up to you, do they? Not as Bruce Wayne and certainly not as the God-damn Batman," Jay snapped.

"Language."

" _Fuck that_! You're letting Dick believe that he could walk again? I saw the knife, Bruce. I don't need x-rays and experts to tell me jack-shit. I _know_ what that bastard did to him. It wasn't something anyone could walk away from!" Jason was yelling now.

Bruce turned away. His shoulders fell as he crossed to the other side of the room. "He knows, Jason. He's done a pretty good job pretending he doesn't so far, but he knows."

 _Damn it_! He hated this, hated that hidden desire deep down inside of him that wanted to go see Dick, see how he was really taking this. Wanting - He slammed his beer down on the table - wanting that thing back, that thing that they'd had after he had given Dick the news about Wally. That something they'd shared for all of five fucking minutes during the rescue.

 _A brother_.

Bruce had called him that, but it didn't make it true. Dick didn't want him - _couldn't_ want him, except maybe to use for target practice. He supposed the guy had a right to that, and Jason certainly had it coming.

"Jason. I know we've had our difference since you've come back. You've been angry, felt betrayed by me . . . I get that. But, don't let that prevent you from visiting Dick . . ."

Jason stood up so fast that his chair fell over. He pointed his helmet at the man. "You don't get to tell me shit! The only reason you're here is because you think Dick wants to see me. You don't give a flying fuck about me . . ."

"That's not true. Jason, I know you're angry still about Joker, but I explained to you why I couldn't . . ."

" _Shut up_!" Jay screamed. Someone pounded on the wall, one of his neighbors. He ignored it. "Shut the fuck up! This isn't about him."

Bruce sighed, nodding. "I can't fix the mistakes that I've made, and I can't expect you to forgive me . . ."

"Screw you."

"Right. I'm going."

Batman walked back to the window he had entered through. Sliding it open, he paused with one foot on the ledge.

"This _isn't_ your fault, you know. What happened to Nightwing. No one blames you. _I_ certainly don't. You shouldn't blame yourself, either," Batman told him, the man sounding as tired as Jason felt. "But, if you could put your anger aside for a few minutes and be there for your brother . . . I know, he'd appreciate it."

With that, Batman shot off his grapple and was gone. He didn't wait around to see the effects his words had, and it was just as well.

" _FUCK_!"

Jason threw his helmet across the room where it slammed into the nineteen-inch TV. It sounded like a shot going off as it embedded itself into the decades-old picture tube. Sparks flew out around it but went out before hitting the floor. The tiny black-and-white was no big loss.

Although, he didn't think it was a fire hazard, Jason yanked the cord out of the wall, just in case. In the silent aftermath, Jason noticed that his previously irate neighbors had also gone quiet. They're probably more scared of him now than angry, he figured.

 _Good_ , he thought. Maybe, he'd be able to get some sleep now. He started stripping on his way to his bed, Bruce's request fresh in his mind and snorted. _Yeah. Like that was going to happen now_ . . . _Not_.

Jason looked in the window, frowning. Dickhead's bedroom looked different from the inviting space he remembered. Gone was the queen-sized bed, in its place was a hospital bed complete with rails and a trapeze bar dangling from above to help Dick lift his upper body off the mattress. There were metal attachments at the head and footboard Jay knew were used if the doc decided Dick needed traction.

 _If Dick no longer needs traction, they should get rid of those pieces_ , Jason thought critically. _No sense in torturing the guy with reminders of what he went through_.

He spotted a hospital tray nearby and some big metal contraption with a kind of sling on it Jay suspected was used for moving Dick in and out of bed. There was a wheelchair in another corner with a high back for better support. Jason rubbed his chest. It hurt seeing all this shit in the manor and it wasn't even there for him.

The wind was picking up. A couple of large drops of rain hit him and the leaves of the big elm tree outside Dick's window rustled as if to reminding Jason of the incoming storm. If he was going to go, he needed to do it now. As it was, he'd be drenched before making it back to his apartment. Thunder rumbled low in the distance, an ominous promise of things to come.

Jason glanced back into the room. Against his better judgment, he tapped lightly on the glass, but Dick didn't turn his head. He either didn't want to see Jason after all or he was asleep. Spotting the myriad medication lined up like little soldiers on the dresser, he suspected it was the latter.

A flash of lightning behind him decided him, and Jason pulled his knife out of his boot, preparing to slip it between the window and the lock when he hesitated. Bruce had asked him to visit. He probably meant for Jason to enter through the front door like a normal visitor, but knowing Bruce, he likely knew the second Jason stepped foot on the property. He had to be prepared for this. Alarms would have announced Jay's presence by now, otherwise.

He tucked the knife back into his boot and placed his hands on the window frame. He only hesitated for a moment before he shoved. The window slid upward, silent and smooth.

 _Unlocked_.

He was expected, apparently, since no one came crashing through the door. He stepped into the room and closed the window before the rain could come through. It took a lot to turn around and even more to walk over to the bed. Jason took off his helmet and looked down at the guy who had given him his Robin costume so long ago. Despite their fights since his return from the grave, Jason knew deep down that Dick would have given anything to save him, up to and including his own life. The anger that had ridden Jason since he came out of that sludge that was the Lazarus Pit had been all-encompassing. He'd been half-out of his head with it.

He was still angry, to be honest, but what he felt now was directed more at himself than anyone else.

Dick hadn't even been on earth when Joker had killed him. Jason had let a damned door and his jerk-brother talk him out of his job and now look where it had gotten them. The black and metal back-brace was visible above the sheet and looked uncomfortable as hell.

"Idiot," he whispered. "Stupid, fucking idiot." His throat closed-up with the force of his regret and he turned away.

He browsed through the medication bottles. A couple of these were powerful painkillers. _Huh_. One didn't normally associate paralysis and pain, but Dick's upper body still had feeling, so it made sense.

Jason wandered around the room, studying the equipment that was now a permanent part of Dick's life. The sling-thing he saw was called a Hoyer. The instructions lay nearby with pictures detailing the transferring of the patient from bed to wheelchair. He moved to the wheelchair itself. This thing was a monstrosity and had a pillowed mold in the seat that Jason guessed helped prevent the occupant from sliding out of the chair.

 _God_ . . . _How bad of shape was he_? Jason wondered, glancing back toward the bed.

Dick would probably be starting therapy soon. As he improved, got stronger, Dick would likely get a different chair, something not quite so . . . _Pathetic_ , Jason thought, grimacing.

What was he doing here? Seeing what his brother's life had turned into, there was no way Dick would want to see him. Bruce was full of shit as usual. Jason looked at the window. Rain was smacking against it, making little splattering sounds that would increase in volume and intensity with every gust of wind. Lightning flashed, followed by the deep, rolling thunder. It was going to get worse out there before it got better.

Seeing a small fridge propped in the corner, Jason opened it and found it stocked with everything from water and protein shakes, sports drinks to juice. He smiled, plucking a chocolate milk from the door. Jay made his way to the upholstered chair near the bed and sat down. He would wait the storm out and head home before anyone came in to check on the golden boy.

He grimaced. The title he had given the perfect first son didn't seem to fit him anymore. Settling into the chair, he drank the milk as he reconsidered his place in the family. A few days ago, he would have said he was alone in the world. He still might be if Dick woke up and saw him sitting here like he fucking belonged or something, but Bruce's words the other night had been rolling around in Jason's head ever since.

The thunder crashed somewhere nearby and Jason watched Dick's face nervously. When his brother didn't react, Jason sighed. The drugs were obviously acting as a sleep agent. Dick probably wouldn't hear a thing before morning.

He decided he might as well relax. The storm would die down for hours yet.

Tim opened the door to his brother's room. Alfred and Bruce would be up shortly to tend to Dick's physical needs, but it was his job to tend to Dick's emotional health. In other words, he was the pep squad sent to keep the patient's spirits up.

"Hey!" he chimed as he entered the room. The sun was already shining through the window and across the bed. "Good morning . . ."

"Sh," Dick shushed him.

"What?" Tim hesitated.

This was the first time Dick didn't either greet him cheerfully or throw something at his head. His older brother's moods were nothing if not mercurial, shifting from one extreme to the other with little to no warning.

Dick held his finger to his lips and nodded to the chair. It was facing away from Tim, so he couldn't see who was in it.

"Don't wake him," Dick whispered as Tim's gaze finally landed on the red helmet sitting on the bedside table.

 _Jason_?

Tim rounded the corner of the winged chair and stared, nonplussed, at the family's black sheep. Jason's head leaned against the upholstered side of the chair, mouth dangling, as his soft snores reached him.

"When did he get here?" Tim asked softly.

Dick shrugged, grimacing with the movement. His painkillers must be wearing off. Tim moved over to the dresser and started rummaging through them for the right medication. Dick was extra grumpy when he was hurting . . . Although, Tim admitted, he didn't seem especially grouchy this morning.

"Don't know. He was like that when I woke up," Dick murmured.

Tim smirked as he brought the pills over with a bottled water. Handing over the meds, Tim dug out his phone and took a picture. Drool dripped off Jay's chin to dribble down the front of his jacket. His neck looked at an uncomfortable angle. He would be pissed when he woke up and realized he had an audience.

"Don't let him know you got a picture of him like that," Dick smiled after he took the pills.

"What? No way." Tim gave him a look of disbelief. "He'd try to kill me . . . again." It didn't make him feel any better that Dick agreed with him.

"He might," Dick nodded. "Just make sure you send a copy to my phone before he makes you eat yours."

Tim sighed as he sent the photo to not only Dick's phone, but to Bruce and Alfred's, too, with a text to be quiet when they came in so as not to wake the sleeping beauty.

"Do you need anything right away?"

"Nah," Dick shook his head. "I'm good for now. Be better once the pills kick in. Tell Alfred to send up an extra breakfast when he comes."

"Right." Tim walked back to the door. "Think I'll go while I can. See you this afternoon."

Dick waved as his youngest brother closed the door behind him. He sighed, relaxing back into his pillow and allowing the painkillers time to do their job. He was just glad to see Jason again. He'd been reassured by several people that Jason was okay but was just busy taking out his anger and frustration on the criminals around Gotham.

 _He must be doing a decent job of it_ , Dick thought to himself, _if Bruce isn't bothering to go out on regular patrols_.

With everyone that had been on the mission now accounted for, Dick could now turn his attention back onto himself. Unfortunately, his medication did nothing for the pain those thoughts brought with them. So, Dick shoved all of it back down into the pit he had created for them in his mind weeks ago and settled for watching Jason sleep instead. In this, at least, he could let one worry go.

It traveled up from his back and into his neck and head. Deep, pulsating pain. The kind that made your head spin and your stomach churn. Dick looked at the clock. His pain meds had worn off almost an hour ago. He was allowed more but, he glanced around him at his guests and sighed.

Tim had shown up with Roy and Wally right about that time. He'd seen all three of them often during the last few weeks on the Watchtower. That had been when Dr. Midnite had begun easing Dick into the back-brace and finally allowing him a few minutes out of traction.

He had hated the traction bed. Hated people seeing him like that, weak, vulnerable . . . pathetic. He had very few visitors early in his recovery because of this, just Bruce and Tim, and occasionally Wally and Artemis. But later, once he had been fitted for the back-brace, Dick had allowed himself visitors. That is, once he could sit up to greet them.

In the beginning, the pain had been excruciating and he could only tolerate the brace for a measly twenty minutes but, then he began to manage it for longer periods of time. An hour here, an hour there, each time suffering in agony for the duration but, at least he could sit up, at least, he could move his arms and head. So, he put the pain in a box and shoved it down deep inside where no one could see it.

And, it was then and only then, that he began allowing visitors to see him.

He could sit up now longer now. Each day he tried to push it a little more. The home health nurse would fuss at him for it, but Bruce, Alfred, and Leslie, who had taken over his care, stoically bore his bad temper and gave him his way much of the time. His therapy was scheduled to begin on Monday, and Dick had no little fear of the horrors that would involve. Still, if it meant he could get out of the damned bed for a while, he would grit his teeth and bear it.

"I swear, Dick, if you tell another one of those damned jokes, I'm going home," Jason groaned.

This was only Jason's second visit, although Dick wasn't sure if the first visit had counted. Dick had slept through most of it, and when he woke up, Jason had been asleep. His brother had barely said two words to him when he had woken then, just wrapped his eggs in his pancakes and taken off.

It was two days later, and he was back. So, there was no way Dick would give Jay a reason to leave just yet. He had no way of knowing if or when his brother would return. While Dick had turned his friends away when the pain was bad, he would continue to deal with it if it meant Jason would stick around a little bit longer.

Dick clenched his jaw and smiled. "You like my jokes, admit it."

"I'll admit nothing," Jay grumped, but there were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

If Dick told jokes, it was to disguise his own lines of distress as laughter. "What kind of shoes do frogs wear?" he asked.

Roy and Wally started laughing before the joke was fully out of Dick's mouth.

Jason looked at them, exasperated. "Stop it! You're only encouraging him."

"So, what kind of shoes do they wear?" Tim asked, curiously.

As clever as the boy was, he never seemed to guess the answers to the ridiculously childish riddles. The grin that appeared on Dick's face at the question this time was genuine. He suspected Tim faked his ignorance just to make Dick happy, but today, he suspected Tim was doing it more just to annoy Jason.

"Tim!" Jason snapped.

Tim's strategy appeared to be working.

"Open-Toad . . ." Dick announced with a short laugh.

Jason slapped his forehead in faux-aggravation, much to everyone's continued amusement. "Ah, that's the worst one yet."

Wally gasped for breath. "No. No, the strawberry one – that was the worst,"

Roy grinned. "The cat jokes . . ."

"I kind of liked the cat jokes," Tim argued, snickering.

"You all are nuts," Jason proclaimed. "Seriously, I must be the only sane one here."

"You like them, Jay," Dick teased. "Just admit it."

"Where do you find all of these, anyway?" Roy asked.

"Online?" Tim offered as a possibility.

Jason snorted. " . . ."

"Really?"

"No, West," Jason rolled his eyes at Wally. "Not really. I just made it up."

Tim looked up from his phone. "No, wait! Hold up. That really is a site."

"You're kidding?" Roy gaped at him.

Tim held up his hand. "Yeah, but it's rather than a dotcom. Here, listen. Why couldn't the bike stand up on its own?"

Roy and Wally looked at one another as Dick snorted. "Because it was two-tired."

Jason collapsed back into his chair with a 'God, help me' expression on his face.

Roy chuckled. "That's it for you, Dick. No more Internet."

There was a tap on the door, and Bruce walked in. "I have a job for all of you," he spoke to the room at large.

The levity fell away at his words.

"What do you need?" Roy asked, standing up.

Bruce walked over to the bed where he eyed his eldest critically. "You look a little pale. Getting tired?"

He was, but Dick denied it. He had been sitting up for less than two hours, for God's sake. He refused to be pitiable in front of his friends. But, this was Bruce and his adopted father could clearly recognize the signs. Bruce grunted, glancing up at the time. He strode over to the dresser and plucked the painkillers out of the bunch, dropping two in his hand and grabbing a cold water from the fridge.

"I realize that you have company, but you know when it is time for your next dose," Bruce chided gently, dropping the pills in Dick's hand. He opened the bottle and handed it to him.

"Right. Thanks," Dick murmured quietly. He didn't want to make a big deal out of this, but the pain made any complaints moot. Truth was, he was grateful. He took the pills quickly, accepting the water bottle.

Bruce frowned at Tim. "The others aren't aware of Dick's schedule, but you should have noticed."

Tim sat up as he noticed the time for the first time since leading Roy and Wally in. "Oh man! I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't realize." He frowned. "Why didn't you tell me you needed something?"

 _Because I didn't want to look even more wretched than I already am_ , Dick thought to himself. Bad enough he couldn't sit up for a couple of hours without advertising his weakness to his friends.

What he said was, "It wasn't bad yet," he muttered.

"There is no reason for you to allow it to get bad at all," Bruce told him. "The doctor prescribed you painkillers for a reason."

"They make me sleepy," he complained. "And, I'm fine, by the way" Dick insisted, ignoring the deep throbbing ache that began in his back near his waist and rose up to drive pitons into the back of his skull. "Really. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

Wally frowned. "You shouldn't _have_ to handle it." At Dick's glare, he adjusted his words. "I mean, we know you capable of dealing with it, but why should you?"

"We probably overstayed our welcome anyway," Roy inserted. "If Batman has a job, we should go and let you rest."

"I'm not tired," Dick groused. Not yet, anyhow, but it was only a matter of time now that he had taken the medication. Bruce and Tim's knowing looks only succeeded in annoying him.

"Well, no one needs to run off for _this_ job," Bruce said. "I'm sure it's something Dick will want to have a say in."

Roy returned to his seat. Bruce had everyone's attention now.

"The rumor mill began a week ago, when we applied for home healthcare and arranged for your therapy. The press has been chomping at the bit to know who in the manor was injured, how it happened, and so on," he explained. "The 'who' will need to be announced soon, along with a convincing story as to the 'how'." Bruce looked around the room. "Any suggestions?"

xxxx-

Jason stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. All the Bats had lots of practice having to explain away the bumps, bruises, and breaks that came with the job. Although, it had been a while since he had to make excuses to anyone who might give a damn.

"Tell them I took up tap dancing but then Alfred waxed the floor," Dick offered.

Jason burst out laughing at the image.

"You might at least come up with something that's badass," Wally complained.

Dick looked offended. "Tap dancing is badass!"

Bruce shook his head. "Do you have a better idea, Wally?"

The speedster shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. How about a building collapsed on him while he was saving some kids from a fire? That's badass."

"That wouldn't work," Tim inserted. "Dick didn't suffer any burns."

Jason grinned. "He was texting on his cellphone and fell down some stairs," he offered up next.

Bruce frowned. "Well, I suppose that _could_ work but . . ."

"But what?" Jason asked. "Makes sense."

"It does not," Dick argued. "I'm not that . . ."

"Lame," Roy finished for him. "Dick's not that lame."

"Thanks," Dick smiled at his friend.

"But, if he had slipped on a banana peel," Roy snickered.

"Hey!"

"What about a spelunking accident?" Tim suggested.

"You realize that whatever you choose couldn't happen in Gotham or Bludhaven," Bruce said. "In fact, it would be better if whatever happened occurred in another country. It would be little more difficult for the press to fact-check."

"So, make it a cave in Europe," Roy shrugged.

Wally spoke up. "What about an accident on the Autobahn?"

Bruce shook his head. "All of these are too easily verified. We don't want anything that should have made the news either here or there."

"I'm a better driver than that," Dick said, frowning. "No one who knows me would believe that I would wreck one of my babies."

"They would if we said you have used too much wax on the bike and you slipped off going around a turn," Jason smirked.

Dick made a face.

Roy laughed. "He could have been on safari in Africa and been caught in a giraffe stampede."

"He was kidnapped by a gorilla and fell out of tree trying to swing on a vine during his escape!" Wally blurted.

"Racing ostriches," Jay offered next.

"Enough with the exotic animals," Bruce interjected as he rubbed his temple.

"But why? No one would question it. Dick was born in a circus, after all," Jason argued.

"And, you were born in a back alley," Dick told him.

"How's that worse than an elephant's stall?" Jason quipped.

Bruce cleared his throat. "All very amusing, but none helpful so far."

"Why do we have to tell them anything?" Wally asked.

"Yeah, it's none of their business," Roy added.

"Except that Dick is the son of the billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne," Tim explained. "He's the heir-apparent to the prince of Gotham."

"They'll want to know," Bruce confirmed.

Tim looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, there is no question then that we them what they want."

Bruce looked at him with suspicion. "You have an idea?"

"I always have an idea," Tim smiled

Bruce lowered Dick's bed carefully. "You've had a busy day. You look beat. Your friends probably shouldn't have stayed so long."

Dick grimaced at the adjustment, aching despite the painkillers. His eyes drooped.

"Do you have to put me back in traction tonight?"

"You know better than to ask that. You're improving a lot, but you aren't there yet."

Dick sighed. "When's the next appointment with Star Labs? Have they come up with anything that will help get Nightwing back on the rooftops?"

Bruce hesitated before answering. "Nothing definite yet. But, don't worry, Dick. No one's giving up on you."

But, the hesitation said it all.

Dick wasn't stupid. If this would have been a regular bone break, Dick would have been already back on his feet and rebuilding his strength by now. He knew his diagnosis and Dr. Midnite's prognosis. It was just like Bruce to live in denial and to drag Dick along with him. Despite this, Dick had allowed himself to hold on to that hope for two long months because to do otherwise would have driven him insane, but it was time for him to face the facts.

There was no fixing this. No fixing _him_.

Bruce squeezed his hand. "Let me call Alfred and we'll get you settled in for the night."

"Sure," Dick muttered without looking at him.

His eyes were on the wheelchair. That was his future. The last of the flying Graysons was grounded – permanently. That was what was behind the afternoon's meeting. What to tell the press . . . Bruce had put it off so long because he hadn't wanted to face facts until now.

What did that say when even The Batman has given up hope?

* * *

 **Thank you all who have read and enjoyed I know we've been a bit absent but adulting! Sometimes life just really gets in the way lol. Well I hope you all enjoyed out latest chapter and we look forward to seeing you all again next month!**

Goingdownwithmyshipz

Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt


End file.
